Live While You're Alive
by Brilliant Brunette Beauty
Summary: Jamie Grimes is sixteen-going on seventeen when the apocalypse hits. Now she's just trying to survive the walkers. With a supposedly dead father, a complicated relationship with his best friend, and a little brother with a habit of wandering off, staying alive isn't easy. Growing up is hard enough, but when it's the end of the world, do the rules change?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you for clicking on my story! Honestly, I'm surprised there aren't more 'daughter of a character' stories on her, because there's sure a heck of a lot of 'sister of a character' stories, more than are usually in one fandom. I'm posting through the whole first season on this story and then starting a new one for season 2, then so on and so forth. Some things will be canon, but other things might change... you never know. So, enjoy and tell me what you think!**

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I tap my foot on the floor rhythmically, watching the clock tick by slowly. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours. Fourth block calculus has its drawbacks. I stare at the teacher's mouth, trying to see what words she's speaking through my boredom. All I can hear is 'blah, blah, blah,' while my thoughts drift to various things that I deem more interesting than math. I _hate_ math. Curse my unusual skill at it. All I do when I'm in here is try to distract myself while the teacher rambles about things that I already know. Why does the last class of the day have to go by so slowly? The static of the overhead announcer gives some form of relief for me. Maybe it's the bus call, or maybe it's the front desk calling that one of my parents is here to pick me up. Hey, I'm allowed to dream while I'm bored in school, aren't I?

_"Miss Winsor? Please send Jamielee Grimes to the front office for dismissal,"_ the voice announces. I get evil looks from my bored classmates while I mutter under my breath, "My name is _Jamie_." I've told these people a hundred times NOT to call me Jamielee. It sounds so weird. I was supposed to be a boy named James, but they had to settle for a female version of the name they found in a baby book. Now, every time the office calls for me, the kids in my class who didn't know my actual name snicker. But hey, at least I'm getting out of here. Miss Windsor continues to teach as I pack up my bag and skip from the room, starting to walk to the front office. The only thing I can think of is why one of my parents is picking me up. Dad's probably at work and Mom's probably outside Carl's school, waiting for him. The lucky kiddo gets out of school before me. They usually don't surprise me with a parent pickup unless I have some sort of appointment, but they usually tell me beforehand. I shrug it off, chalking it up to Mom forgetting to tell me about a doctor's or a dentist's appointment I'm supposed to go to today.

The blinds of the front office are closed shut when I get outside the door. I readjust the shoulder of my heavy blue book bag so it's not digging into the skin of my shoulder too much and making my back ache as bad. Then I grab the knob of the door and turn it, walking into the office. The first thing I see is the principal's face, which is grave and saddened. Why does he look so deathly? Am I in trouble or something? Then someone stands up from the chair in front of him. Not Dad, not Mom; it's Shane, Shane Walsh, Dad's best friend and deputy.

"Wait, Shane? What are you doing here?" I ask. It's not like I don't like Shane. I do, believe me. He's my dad's best friend, and in a lot of ways, he's mine too. I can sit and talk to him for hours and he'll listen more than some of my friends my age will. But I don't understand why he's here, decked out in his police uniform, and I don't know why he looks so serious. Shane's always been the jokester, not hard and sad. He steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder and rubbing it.

"Jamie… Let me walk you to the car." His tone worries me. This isn't Shane. Shane's light and humorous and stern only when he needs to be. I can only think one thing; something's wrong. Something's not right. I'm going to hear something or see something I won't like. I want to run away far and fast because I know whatever's coming isn't good.

"O-Okay," I stutter. He slides his hand down my back as he leads me out of the office and walks me out to the parking lot. The police cruiser is sitting there on an outer spot. On instinct, I look for Dad in the car. He's not there. What was I expecting? If he were here, he would have come into the office to get me and not sent Shane. Where is he, anyway? And why is Shane here? Great, now I'm back to that question. Shane opens the door to the passenger's seat for me and I hop in. When Shane gets in on the other side, he doesn't start the car or put his keys in or do anything, really. He just sighs. A long, resigned sound that scares me for a reason I don't know. I feel that weird feeling you get when you get in your stomach when you're on a roller coaster and you've just realized it's too late to get off and you _really _don't wanna be on it. I want out of this car. I don't want to be here when Shane says whatever it is he's going to say. Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it.

Nevertheless, Shane reaches for my hand resting on the cup holder and covers it with his own.

"Jamie, there is no easy way to say this, but I'm just gonna have to say it… Your father's been shot, darlin." The words take a few seconds to piece together in my brain, just like my math teacher's lesson, but when they do, I can feel my heart sink in my chest. No, this isn't true. Dad's careful. This stuff happens in the movies, not in real life, not in King County. I'm waiting for Shane to break into a smile and admit to this being a very tasteless joke, but he keeps his eyes trained on my face, waiting for a reaction. That's when it hits me; my dad's been shot. He's been hit in the line of duty, and judging by Shane's seriousness, he could die.

I feel the tears fall quickly. My dad, the man I always looked up to and thought invincible, could be dead. I'm not usually a crier, but can anyone really blame me for crying now?

"Sh-Shane…" He quickly leans towards me and brings my head to his chest like Dad does when I cry. That only makes me cry harder. What if Dad isn't around to do that anymore?

"Shhh, shh, Jamie. He's in surgery. You know your dad. He ain't a quitter. It'll be alright, darlin. I promise. Just let it out…" And I do just that. Even though the fact that he's not dead is slightly comforting, I'm still terrified for him. I can't lose him. Especially not now, in my teens, when I really need a father's guiding hand. He can't leave me or Mom or Carl. Oh God, what about Mom and Carl?

"D-Do my mom and Carl – Do they know?" I ask into Shane's shirt. I don't want to lift up my head and face him with red eyes. Dad would want me to be stronger. He rubs my back up and down.

"They're at the hospital right now. Your dad should be out of surgery in a few hours. I came to drive you there." Can I handle being there and having to wait in a sterile room, surrounded by similarly sad people and my crying family, having to control myself while doctors try to save my dad's life? Can I be there without breaking down? But most importantly, would Dad want me there? Before I can even begin to think about these things, I hear myself say, "Shane, I just can't."

Shane looks at me pitifully. "I don't really want to either, but I need to take you to see your mom and your brother. They need to see you, Jamie. You need to be strong for them." I think about what he says. I'm sure Mom and Carl are devastated, just as much as I am. I really should be there for them instead of being selfish and worrying them. I finally crane my head out of Shane's comfy chest and sit upright in my chair.

"Okay." Shane gives me a soft smile and starts the car. I look out the window, imagining the doctors removing the bullet from Dad and him coming out without a scratch. That's how it's going to go anyways. Yeah, he's going to be fine. Shane promised. Dad's going to be fine. It's just one gunshot wound.

* * *

When Shane leads me into the waiting area, it's just as I imagined it; white and sterile. I hate it. At least Mom and Carl are here. They're both crying for all they're worth and clinging onto each other. I immediately feel awkward. My little breakdown with Shane was a rarity for me. Usually, I don't like showing my inner-most feelings around other people, even my family. It makes me feel odd, and I feel like those emotions are my own so no one should see them. Am I expected to cry too? I think I cried all my tears into Shane's shirt.

"Jamie!" I hear Carl sob. He runs up to me and wraps his arms around my waist. Not quite sure what to do, I wrap my arms around him in return, trying to be comforting. I'm not quite sure how to be comforting, despite the fact that I love my pesky little brother. Comfort has always been Mom's job, not mine. Speaking of Mom, she walks up to us and wraps us both up in a hug.

I hug back awkwardly, but right now, all I want to do is sit down in one of these uncomfortable chairs, stare at the ugly tile floor and think. But like Shane said, my family needs me right now. After what feels like much too long, both Mom and Carl let me go. I glance in Shane's direction. He's leaning on the wall, staring at us and looking… guilty? Why would he feel guilty? He was probably with Dad. They're partners, after all. He must feel guilty for not being able to stop it. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't have stopped it. Before I go over to sit down next to them, I walk up to Shane and grab his hand.

"Sit with us," I tell him. He hesitates and makes no move to join us, but I won't let him off the hook that easy. Still gripping his hand, I start to drag him to the chairs and sit him down in one next to me. Now, all we have to do is wait.

All I can do is stare at the floor, then at the wall, then at the ceiling. I alternate between the three for hours, clinging onto the hope that Dad will be out of the woods soon. Mom and Carl are both silent, their cries long gone. The air in the room is somber. I can practically feel all the other people in the room staring at me, judging me for my tearful reunion with my family. I hate feeling their eyes on me, so I keep my own away from them. I just close my eyes, letting my mind wander away from Dad's current state. I'd rather think of anything else right now. Math class suddenly seems so appealing. I wish I was still listening to Miss Winsor lecture about calculus. Instead, I'm waiting for someone to tell me whether or not Dad's okay. But he'll be fine, right? Because Shane promised. And Shane was there. He should know.

"Family of Rick Grimes?" I look up from the floor and see a doctor in a scrubs standing at the door. I stand up like they do in movies when they ask for the family of a patient, and then someone stands up, and then the doctor takes them to a back room and tells them that their family member didn't make it… This isn't a movie though. Dad's fine. I walk over to the doctor on my wobbly legs while Mom walks to him with Carl attached to her hip.

"I'm Lori Grimes, his wife. How is he? Did the surgery go fine?" She's nodding as she speaks, like this will convince him to tell us that Dad's fine. But Mom shouldn't worry, because Dad's fine. He wouldn't let some lead stop him.

"The surgery was successful." Relief soars through me like a rocket. "However, your husband suffered from a series of seizures after the operation. He had no time in between his seizures to recover. The lack of blood flow to the brain has caused him to fall into a coma. I'm sorry, ma'am." No. This can't be right. What about what Shane said about him being alright? Was that just a comforting lie? Yeah, it was, it must have been. And I fell for it. Stupid me. Dad was _shot_. People don't just bounce back from that.

"We won't know exactly how his recovery will go yet. We need to wait to be sure." Mom and Carl are both trying to hold back tears, but all I have is disbelief and anger. I've waited hours to hear _this_, do they really think I can wait days? I just want to curl up in a ball next to my dad's hospital bed and never leave.

"Can we see him?" I ask the doctor in a broken voice. He looks down at me with pity and nods. "Come with me." I turn around suddenly, remembering that Shane is with us. The tear streaming down his face shocks me. If there are two people in my life who I've never seen cry, it's Shane and Dad. And seeing Shane cry scares me more than hearing the news that Dad was shot. If Shane cries, that means it's serious.

He doesn't follow us to Dad's room, which I'm grateful for once I see the shape Dad's in. He's pale as a ghost and sweat from his seizures beads his forehead. His hospital gown in open, revealing a bandage covering his side. This isn't the strong Dad I know, and it feels like I shouldn't be seeing him like this. He wouldn't want me to see him like this. Mom and Carl are already at his bedside, but I'm leaning against the door feeling sick to my stomach. I can't imagine going days, weeks even, without being able to talk to Dad and not knowing if I ever will again.

"Jamie?" I hear my Mom ask from behind me. "Are you okay, sweetie?" No, Mom, I'm not okay.

"Yeah, I just need some air." Before anyone can protest, I slip back into the waiting room, passing Shane on my way out the door. I let the warm spring air hit my face and dry tears I'm suddenly aware are on my cheeks. I can't stand this. I just want to be the girl I was an hour ago, no matter how ridiculous that sounds. I can't believe this is happening to me.

"Jamie?" I whip around to see Shane standing within a few feet of me, looking concerned. I quickly wipe away my remaining tears, wanting to be strong for my dad, just like Shane told me. "Yeah?" I ask him. He steps forward slowly, like I'm an animal that will bite him if he comes too close. That's ridiculous. I wouldn't lash out at Shane. Then again, he did say Dad was going to be okay, which he shouldn't have said since he didn't _know_ that for certain. Maybe I _should_ be angry at him. It's only logical. But, as he approaches me and puts a hand on my arm, I can't find the energy to be angry or upset at him.

"Why'd you run out?" he asks softly. I shrug, though I know why I ran away from my father's comatose body. I just couldn't stand to see a man I thought was so strong suddenly so fragile.

"I just wanted to get out," I kinda lie. Shane nods and takes another step towards me. He puts his arm around my mid back like a kind of awkward half-hug.

"I know how you feel, Jamie. Rick and I… I love him like he's my brother. And I just can't believe I let this happen to him. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…"

He wraps the other arm around me and brings me into his chest for a full hug. The anger I felt towards him dissipates at this very moment. I just wanted someone I could blame, someone I could take all this anger out on. Maybe when he told me Dad would be okay, he was trying to convince himself more than me. "Don't blame yourself, Shane," I beg. "I just hope you shot the bastard who did this." He laughs into my brown curls.

"Yeah, I took care 'a him and his friends. But don't be lettin' your mom hear you use that language." I lean on Shane's chest, feeling the warmth radiating from it. It feels extremely good, especially now, to know there's something or someone to take comfort in. At least I still have that one thing to hold onto.

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**A/N: Yes, I liked Shane before he turned into a murderous psychopath. So, I intend to make him more sane this time around.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so earlier I got a not-so-nice review calling my main character (who's only been in one chapter so far) a 'Mary Sue' and insulting me for calling Shane a murderous psychopath. With all due respect, I've only posted one chapter; character development is not instantaneous. As you will see later on, Jamie is no Mary Sue. She'll have Lori's quick temper, Rick's want to protect her family, and a spunkiness all her own, along with a mouth she doesn't really know how to keep shut. I like to give all my original characters a distinct personality. She'll have some problems controlling her temper and is by no means the perfect little Mary Sue. Usually, you actually have to wait until more than ONE CHAPTER to determine whether or not a character is a Mary Sue. Sure, she cried like a victim Mary Sue, but who wouldn't if their dad got shot? I would appreciate it if you waited until more chapters in to attack me. And I called Shane a 'murderous psychopath' not because I don't think he's complex, which he is (his want to protect Lori and Carl and guilt over what he's done clash with his hard survival skills that tell him outsider can't be trusted and his thoughts that Rick's a bad leader), but I know how most of the fanbase views him. They think he's mental, so I was just saying that 'crazy Shane', as I've heard people call his season 2 persona, will not be making an appearance. **

**I respect constructive criticism, but I will not tolerate juvenile comments like that. If you're kind to me, I'll be kind to you. It's as simple as that.**

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It's been a week since Dad fell into a coma. On the bright side, the doctors say that Dad will most likely recover with the proper care and treatment. On the downside, they also say that it could take from a few weeks to a few months for him to wake up. I've nearly gone crazy during this week already from not being able to talk to him. I might have to wait even longer until I can see him awake again.

I've been overemotional this week in so many ways. I'm either trying to rip people's heads off or crying uncontrollably at random moments. Shane has become like my best friend. He picks me up from school whenever I text him, which seems to be a lot lately. He takes me back to his house so I can ignore having to go home to Mom. She always wants me to 'talk about my feelings'. I understand where she's coming from, but the way I handle things like this is to keep it to myself. I don't feel better by talking about it. I try to go on with my life like it never happened. I can't exactly do that now, but I still don't want to 'talk it out'. I'd rather just deal with it in my own way.

The other thing that's happening is a mysterious virus. From what I've heard, it's giving people massive fevers and hallucinations and then turning them into cannibals. It's freaking me out, but then again, swine flu almost made Mom pull me out of school. I'm surprised that she's not doing that now, but maybe she's remembering how Dad was able to talk her out of it last time. I remember how he held my hand during the swine flu shot while I tried my best to look at him instead of the needle going into my arm. If only there was a shot for this 'cannibal disease'. Whatever it is, I just hope I don't catch it. That's the last thing I need right now.

I grab my phone out of my backpack and text Shane. _Can you pick me up today? Sorry if it's a bad time. _I always feel bad about texting him to pick me up so much I know he has a life and I should leave him alone, but I just don't want to go home now. It's too much. Seconds later, I feel my pocket vibrate. _Sure thing, and it's no problem. I'll be there in a few._ I smile. Going to Shane's house isn't only an escape from my own, but it's fun. He and I watch movies, eat ice cream and talk about everything except Dad and the virus. Sometimes I sleep over if I really had a bad day. He always insists that I take his bed and he take the couch and I always fight him, but eventually, he ends up on the couch and I end up in his comfy bed.

While I make my way through the hallway to stop at my locker, the static for announcements comes on all throughout the school. We never get announcements outside of our class, and everyone can tell that it must be important because the usually rowdy kids are almost completely silent. I don't really have to fall silent. I don't exactly have many friends to talk to.

_"Attention, students and staff. King County schools will be canceled until further notice due to disease related concerns. That is all." _I can hear some students cheering, but I feel conflicted. Sure, no more calculus, but this means that this disease is even more serious than I thought. This can't be good. I quickly get my things then rush to the parking lot.

Shane is waiting for me in his regular car, sitting in the driver's seat. I get in the other side next to him, laying my head down on the head-rest and closing my eyes.

"You had a long day, huh?" he asks. I'm very readable. It's easy to tell when I'm distressed. I look at him, a small smile on his face like usual, and wonder if he'll be the next person to turn into a cannibal. God, I sure hope not.

"School's closed because of that disease," I say in a small voice. His grin fades and he looks at me with worry. "And I-I know I probably sound ridiculous, but I'm scared, Shane. What if you get it, or what if I get it? Or Mom or Carl, or…" I trail off. I mean to say 'Dad', but I can't even think about that. That'd be a death sentence for him in his condition. I feel Shane grip my chin with his index finger and his thumb. He brings my head up to view his face.

"You listen to me, Jamie," he begins, looking strong and like the police officer he is. "Now, don't you be scared of nothin. This thing won't be that bad. It'll pass. You and your mom and brother will be just fine. I owe it to Rick to keep y'all safe and I promise I'll do everything I can to keep you safe from this." Despite the fact that Shane can't keep that promise if the virus spreads further, there's something about his tone that's comforting to me. He'd really do anything for us. I'm not sure if it's because he feels like he's responsible for what happened to Dad or because he just cares about us. Maybe it's a little bit of both. However, I don't like being talked to like I'm five and I'll believe anything that comes out of an adult's mouth. I know he couldn't do a damn thing to save us from the virus.

"Now, do you want to come back to my place for a while?" he asks. I nod, strapping on my seatbelt.

"Your place is always more fun than mine." He smiles at this and starts the car. "Well you know you're welcome there any time. Even if it's 1:00 a.m. and you're wondering, 'Should I call Shane?' you're welcome to come over."

He gives me a wink that makes my cheeks heat up before he goes back to the wheel. I curse my girlish nature before gathering myself together. I guess any member of the male race winking at me sends my sixteen-year-old hormones into a flurry. But when I get that reaction from my dad's best friend, who's old enough to be my own father… That's just odd. Maybe I'm just starved for attention. I'm average looking, never had a boyfriend, don't even have many friends (people aren't really my thing), so I guess I liked being winked at. Sue me.

I spend the whole drive staring out the window, not really feeling energetic enough to speak. I can feel Shane gaze at me every so often. He knows something's not right with me. As soon as I see Shane, I start blabbering on and on about something or another, and he always listens and responds with enthusiasm, but I'm completely silent today. All I can think about is the virus and what the heck it is. I understand all other diseases; they make you sick and if you don't get treated properly, you die. But this one turns people into cannibals, and I heard a rumor that if people bite you, it can transfer the infection. Something tells me that this one is a little bit different from the others.

"Hey, darlin?" I look over at Shane. "Yeah?" I ask. He points out of the car.

"We're here… Are you okay?" I nod, even though I can feel how unconvincing it is. It must really be unconvincing, because he looks at me and raises his eyebrows. But he doesn't say a word. He knows that this isn't the way to get me to open up. In fact, I don't really ever open up. He just leaves it, and I climb out of the car with him. As soon as I get inside, I launch myself on his couch and lay face down, my arms at my side. I hear him laugh from behind me.

"Someone's tired," he says. I manage a small groan in response. I _am _tired. I stayed up late last night thinking about Dad and the virus and everything else going wrong in my life. That's my main problem; I think too much.

"Want anything?" he asks. "Just something to drink," I respond back as loudly as I can, which is still not that loud.

"Water or soda?" I want to groan again at having to speak, but instead I respond, "Soda, please." He obliges and passes me a soda before sitting down next to my feet. I can't actually see him, but I can feel his indent on the couch. He sighs before turning on the TV, quickly realizing that I'm a lost cause and he won't be getting a word out of me. My Coke remains cold and untouched on the coffee table as I lie on the couch and feel myself entering the state where I'm not napping, but just resting my eyes. So, Shane and I sit in silence again. This silence is completely comfortable, though. He's just watching TV with the volume down low and I'm just laying here. It's so comfortable that I just want to slip off into sleep after all those hours at school…

"Jamie…" I distantly hear myself groan, but I'm not quite attached to reality.

"Darlin, wake up." My eyes open without my consent and blur into focus. Shane is standing over me, grinning.

"You were out like a light," he remarks. I groan again and shake out my already forming bed head.

"I'm just a bit tired from school," I mumble. I hear his distinct chuckle and feel his indent press into the back of the couch. "I can tell." My mind is worn out from thoughts of Dad, the disease, and tests I have to study for this week. I have that Latin quiz later this week that I'm too lazy to study for, the stupid calculus test on Friday… Oh wait, school's canceled until further notice. I almost forgot. The thought brings a knot to my stomach. I'd rather be sitting through a test than have all this stuff happening to me all at once. I'm quite a mess for just a teenaged girl, huh?

"I should take you home," Shane says from the other end of the couch. "Your mom probably knows school was cancelled by now and I bet she's worried sick about you." I sigh. Shane's right. I should be going home now. Knowing Mom, she's probably way too worried about me than she should be. Just because school was cancelled doesn't mean I'm in immediate danger. I love Mom, but she can be slightly overbearing at times. I don't do well with control. It's partially her fault; I inherited her hot temper. Dad is the calm parent who actually listens to my side and gives me space. Now that he's not in the house to smooth things over, there's a lot of tension. Still, I fight having to go home.

"I'm so tired, though," I groan. Maybe I can whine my way out of going home.

There's a short pause before I hear Shane ask, "Will you at least consider going home and picking a change of clothes, just so your mom knows you're fine?" It's only a small victory for me; I know that as soon as I try to leave with my clothes, Mom will try to guilt me into staying. I wonder if it's even worth trying to stay here if I'm just going to get crap about it. I even feel a little guilty about leaving my mom and brother alone. Do they need me as much as Mom insists they do? Suddenly, I remember the argument Mom and Dad got in the morning right before he was shot.

_"Sometimes I wonder if you even care about us at all."_

_Mom's words were cold and cruel, but spoken without emotion. She then went back to cooking breakfast as if she hadn't just hurt Dad so badly. He stood there, his mouth slightly open in shock and his eyes swimming with hurt. Carl sat at the table, looking uncomfortable and saddened. Suddenly, I was angry at Mom. Of course Dad cares about us. He loves us more than anything. Just because he doesn't always agree with Mom doesn't mean he doesn't CARE. They've said some nasty things during their arguments, but I've never seen anything hurt Dad more than what she said._

_But Dad, he didn't let that anger him. He didn't retaliate. He simply took his things and left the kitchen, headed for the door. I shot Mom the meanest glare I could muster before running after Dad. Before he could leave, I wrapped my arms around him and buried my head in his chest. _

_"I know you care about us," I told him, the sound muffled by his uniform against me. He heard it, however, and quietly responded, "Thanks, Leelee." Did I mention that he has the most embarrassing nickname for me? He ruffled my hair before leaving._

I still can't believe Mom said that. I'm still mad at her for that day. That's what Dad went to work with in his head. That's what Carl went to school with in his head. It was uncalled for and not to mention the fact that she was the one being unreasonable, not Dad. She's the one who should apologize after fights, not Dad. Maybe that's why I've been ignoring her recently.

I honestly don't want to stay at my house tonight, or any night, but I'm so tired that I don't have the energy to try to argue with Mom. Besides, I'll have plenty of opportunities to see Shane now that school is cancelled until further notice.

"Fine, just take me home," I tell him. He smiles and takes my hand as he stands up off the couch. I know I agreed to go home, but I'll just be… there. I won't participate in conversation, I won't hang out downstairs, and I won't walk around the house. I'll stay in my room like I usually do and not talk to Mom.

I lean against the window of the car the whole ride, just not wanting to talk right now. Shane respects my boundaries and stays silent. We finally stop right outside my house. I unbuckle my seatbelt, ready to jump out of the car when Shane grips my wrist to halt me. I turn around to face him, still halfway out of the car.

"If you ever need anything, just call, okay?" I nod and give him a weak smile before exiting the car and waving to him.

I prepare myself for the interrogation I'm sure to get the minute I walk through the door. I forgot to text Mom that I went to Shane's house. She's going to be ticked off, and I can't say I'll blame her. I may not get along with her that much anymore, but I'm not a rebellious teen. I understand that texting or calling her when I'll be somewhere else for a long period of time is the responsible thing to do, but I completely forgot. It's not like I go out much anyway. I probably deserve what's going to come to me. I walk in and look to the living room next to me.

Mom's on the couch, reading a book, totally ignoring me. She's a bit too calm for my tastes. I feel like she's going to snap at any minute.

"Mom?" I try.

"Hmm?" she asks, not looking up from her book. So, she knows I'm here, yet she's not angry at me. Something's just… off.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you or anything, I just forgot. I was at-," She cuts me off by interjecting, "Shane's house, I know."

Even though she can't see me, I raise my eyebrows. "How did you know?" I ask.

"You've been there every day for a week now. I just assumed that that's where you were today." Something about her curt tone bothers me, but I don't even talk to her about it. Mom and I have never exactly been close enough to talk about things. However, anger simmers deep down in my chest. Just when I was about to talk to her for the first time in a long time, she cut me off. What a hypocrite.

I go to my room and close the door, laying down in my bed and closing my eyes, waiting to fall into a dreamless sleep where I don't have to think about Dad's coma or the disease.

* * *

**A/N: So Jamie's temper is starting to show. That's going to be a big thing in the story; she has a quick temper and she doesn't really like people. That may prove to be a bit of a problem sooner or later... Read to find out! And after this, you CAN'T tell me she's a Mary Sue. I mean, come on; she's average looking, she doesn't have many friends, she has a bad temper, she doesn't like people, she hates talking out her problems, and when she does talk, she talks too much. Really, random reviewer? REALLY?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you to TOkun92, amber, and Anissa for the lovely reviews! They really helped! So, people, don't be shy telling me what you want to see in the story or what you think I should fix or what you think I should get rid of. It really does help (as long as you're nice about it)! And, in case anyone wants to know, I got the title of this story from a song called, Hope for the Best, Expect the Worst from a movie called The Twelve Chairs, a movie I don't really even like, but I'm a fan of the song and the director's other works. It's basically a song about how life is terrible and you have to make the best of it anyway. It's actually really entertaining if you want to check it out.**

**This chapter is a little shorter than my others, but there's a reason for that. If I had added anything more, I'd have to add a lot.**

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A light appears above my eyelids, a clear sign that someone has turned on the light in my room. I'm still half-asleep and I'm prepared to claw out the eyes of whoever did this. I am not anywhere near a nice person in the mornings. When I open my bleary eyes, I see Mom at the foot of my bed with a duffel bag. I'm so tired that the fact that there's a duffel bag near her is irrelevant to me right now. All I can register is that she's waking me up for some reason and I want to crawl further into my sheets.

"Mom? What're you…" I trail off as my eyes shift slightly to my left, taking in my surroundings. Mom's not the only one in my room. Decked out in his uniform and fully loaded with his gun is Shane, who's grabbing some of my essential items like he lives here and knows where all my things are. Despite the fact that it's 6:30 a.m. according to my digital clock that I worked up enough energy to check, they both looked panicked and seem to be in a hurry. My first thought goes to Dad; what if something happened to him? Did he die last night? Is he recovered? Everything that happens makes me think of Dad now.

"What's going on?" I demand, my voice surprisingly clear. They both stop what they're doing at look at me. They turn to each other, like they're waiting for the other to say something.

Eventually, Shane just says, "We need to leave, Jamie. Right now. Get up and pack some things." Mom tosses me the duffel bag and they leave my room, heading straight for Carl's across the hall. With shaky hands, I grab the duffel bag and open my drawers, grabbing some assorted clothes, pants, socks, underwear, and some shoes from my closet. Something tells me to grab both clothes for warm weather and clothes for hot weather. I can feel my stomach doing summersaults, like it was the day Shane told me about Dad being shot. Whatever's happening is not good.

I get dressed and continue to grab things that I feel I'll need, even some things that I just want with me, like some books of mine. I sling the duffel bag over my shoulder and go to the living room, where I see Mom, Carl, and Shane waiting for me. Mom and Carl both have their own bags with them, and I can see the look of nervousness of Carl's face. Something looks different around the house, but I can't quite place it. When I look at the mantel on top of the fire place, I see that the family photo is gone. Mom must have packed all the family photos. She's always been sentimental like that, were as I have actually never bothered to look in our photo albums because I see my family every day, so what's the point? Does her bringing them with us mean we're not coming back?

"Let's get out of here," Shane insists. We all follow him out the door. When I get out into the streets, I'm greeted by an intense heat just barely bouncing off my skin, like how it feels to stand away from a bonfire. I gasp when I realize where it came from. There are random fires throughout the street. People are running about, getting into their cars and driving away, while some are just running. It's something out of a horror movie. It looks like the end of the world here on my little street. I can only imagine where it is everywhere else, especially more populated areas. This can't be a local riot.

"Get in the car," Shane tells us. On instinct, I almost get in the passenger's seat, but Mom takes it before I can. I open the door to the backseat and shove Carl in protectively before getting in myself. We all buckle up while I grip the edges of the leather seat tightly. There's nothing more terrifying than being in these situations and not knowing what's happening. I can hear screaming and people rushing about. There are objects piling in the streets. The smell of things burning is as overwhelming as the heat from the flames and I just _want Dad_. He'd know what to do right now. He'd tell me what in the world is going on. He's always been that heroic police officer to me, even when I grew out of the stage where I viewed my parents as heroes.

"What's happening?" I ask, directing it at Mom and Shane. They just ignore me while Shane starts the car up. I can feel the familiar feeling of rage building. They must know _something_ for them to get me out of my bed in the middle of the night and make me pack my things to take off to God-knows-where.

"What in the hell is happening?!" I demand to know. Mom looks back at me with those disapproving eyes that she gave Dad all the freaking time and for a small minute, I hate her guts.

"Jamie, just calm-,"

"Don't you tell me to calm down, _Mother_!" I snap. "Look outside your window! It looks like the world is ending, and I want to know what it is before you take me anywhere!" She looks at Shane. I swear, if she looks at Shane for guidance one more time I'm going to rip her eyeballs out. Can't she act like a mother and tell me things herself? While trying to pull out of our road, Shane looks back at me.

"It's the virus, Jamie. You won't believe the panic." I freeze. I should have guessed. This virus is sending everyone into a panic lately. There have been even more occurrences and radio stations are urging people to head to Atlanta for the CDC. Places are closing left and right and people are buying out guns and survival supplies. Many of us have dismissed the warnings. How did it get _worse_?

"What about the virus?" I ask. My voice sounds less forceful, meek even. Why did I even ask? Do I _want _to know the answer? The car comes to a sudden halt, making us all jump forward a bit, restrained by our seatbelts. Shane's rigid in his seat, hunched over slightly. He turns back around to face me, looking panicked and even slightly crazed.

"The dead are coming back to eat the living."

I blink a few times, waiting for that sentence to settle in. _'The dead are coming back to eat the living.'_ I'm not ready for this. How could anyone be ready for that? How can the dead come back to life? Well, not exactly life, but how is any of this possible? I feel like I'm going to hyperventilate and pass out. This is all too… bizarre. It's like something out of a really bad movie. We prepare ourselves for tragedies such as deaths and natural disasters. Now, I'm not sure what I'm going to do or what I'm expected to do. Carl leans into my side, hugging me tightly, too shocked to sob. I hug him back, not sure how exactly to comfort him when I myself have no idea what to think. A thought suddenly pops into my head.

"We need to get Dad!" I exclaim. By this time, Shane has hit some resistance in the road, probably some debris. Mom and Shane both look back at Carl and me sadly, Mom's eyes suddenly filling up with tears. It's like a bullet to my stomach. Oh God, please don't let them say what I think they're about to say.

"I tried to get him out of the hospital, I did," Shane pleads, looking directly into my eyes. It's then that I know; Dad's dead.

If there's ever a moment where you can feel the whole world come crashing down on you, then that moment is now. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I can see my vision blur with tears to the point where nothing's visible and very distantly, I hear Carl sob violently into my side. _'My dad just died, the dead have risen up to eat the living, and I'm only sixteen.' _Is it possible to have your heart and soul ripped out of your chest then thrown into the garbage? If so, that just happened to me. My father, my confidant and best friend, is gone. I'll never see him again. I'll never hear his smooth voice or take in his reassuring words or feel him hug me again. Not only that, but by the looks of it, the world's ending. I won't even have time to mourn. All I have now is Mom, Carl and Shane. I feel like everything's been ripped away from me so quickly and cruelly. How could this happen? My anger is overpowering my grief. I feel the urge to lash out at someone. This was not accident; someone did this. The feeling of wanting to place someone with my burden tingles in my fingertips that are just itching to point an accusing finger at someone. I quickly find my first victim.

"Why didn't you save him?" I hiss at Shane. He's still driving, but I can see his body visibly stiffen in front of me. Mom turns back to look at me.

"Honey, don't-," I cut my mom off immediately.

"You had CPR training, you were there, and you could've gotten him out! You could have _saved_ him, but you didn't. And _that_ will always be your fault." My words are venomous and harsh, and I can see they have the desired effect on him. The entire car falls silent except for the faint sound of Carl's muffled cries into my jacket. Good, I hope Shane feels bad. He didn't try hard enough. He probably just gave up and left Dad there because it was too hard. He left him there, comatose and ready to die. It's his fault Dad's gone. Then, it really hits me.

Dad's gone. He's gone forever and I'll never see him again. A strangled sob escapes my throat at the thought. Within seconds, the tears are pouring out of my eyes as I clutch Carl to me. Everything's gone. Dad, my normal life, my home… It's all gone forever. Carl and I just cry with each other for as long as my tear ducts allow. I think I can hear Mom crying too, but I'm too wrapped up in my own emotions to know for sure. The pain, anger and grief are overwhelming. I cry for Dad's life so suddenly ended, I cry for Carl's childhood ending, and lastly, I cry for myself; for all the times I will never have with Dad and for the end of life as I know it. Within fifteen minutes, I can feel my eyes start to droop as the crying exhausts me. I drift off into a dreamless sleep, still feeling that aching pain in my heart and the pounding in my head from all my crying.

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**A/N: I actually have to admit, I liked Shane until the second season, but I think I actually might like him in this. Of course I do; it's my fanfic!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm posting this in a hurry! Homecoming's in a few hours and I'm about to get ready. Wish me luck and have a good time reading!**

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I feel my eyes flutter open suddenly. The sun peeking through the car window isn't intense. In fact, I think it might be dying out to a deep, golden orange that it gets right before night falls. It must already be late in the afternoon. I'm shocked by how long I slept, but of course, with all the shocking news and crying, it shouldn't be too surprising that I was out cold. The thought brings back an ache in my heart. Dad's gone, the dead have risen up to eat us, and I think I've just lost a best friend in Shane. When I think back to my harsh words, I cringe slightly. Dad was Shane's best friend. They went to high school together and were partners at the police station. Shane was always the guy who came over for Sunday football games, exchanging laughs with Dad during the commercials and hanging out with Carl and me after the game ended. They were like brothers. What have I done? I lost everything, and I just alienated one of my only connections to Dad. Is it too late to apologize to Shane?

I look at my side and see that Carl is still sleeping, leaning on me. His face is buried in my jacket, which is by now probably covered in his dried tears. Poor Carl. He's only twelve years old and he has to deal with all this. This shouldn't be his childhood. When I glance to the front of the car, I see that Mom and Shane are still sitting in their places, but cars are stretched out in front of us for miles. It's obviously not budging, and some people are even getting out of their cars with confused looks on their faces. Now I can see that I've slept so much longer than planned. The sun is near setting. Mom turns back to look at us, and I shake Carl awake.

"Kids, get out of the car," she tells us quietly. I unbuckle quickly and open the door. In front of us, another family has exited their vehicle. A short-haired, meek looking woman stands with a little girl around Carl's age and a man with a scowl indented into his face. I watch as Mom pulls out the back of the truck for Carl and me to sit down on. Carl gratefully sits, looking exhausted despite how long he's been asleep, but I look over to Shane, who is in the front seat, trying to get a radio signal. I want to apologize to him for my sharp words earlier, but I don't want it to be in front of Mom and Carl. It should be private.

I'm unaware of how long I've been staring at Shane until he looks up at me. Hesitantly, he gives me a small smile. He looks like he's walking on eggshells around me. I berate myself even more for being the cause of it. How stupid am I? I guess I was just so buried in grief that I took it all out on the only person I could. My legs move on their own accord, and I'm nearing Shane. Slowly, I reach out and grasp his arm.

"Shane, could I please talk to you for a minute?" I ask silently. He quickly looks back at Mom and Carl, who are both sitting on the bed of the truck silently. He then looks back at me, trying to give me a sad smile, but he fails at getting a smile onto his face.

"Sure." I climb over in on the passenger's side and close the door. Luckily, from where Mom and Carl are, they won't be able to hear me. When I see the sad look in his eyes, I know how badly I've screwed up, and I know I have to fix it before I drive him even further from me.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I'm so, so sorry that I blamed you for Dad. I know you. I know you did the best you could, and I shouldn't have blamed you for not being able to save him. You've done so much for us. We wouldn't have made it out if it weren't for you. God, Shane, I'm _so_ sorry…" By the end of my apology, I'm crying again. I curse my emotions for getting the best of me again. I must look so pathetic. I've cried in front of him so many times. I don't want to, I want to be strong, but I'm a teenage girl. I can only be so strong until I snap. But Shane doesn't comment on my tears. He just leans over to my seat and pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back.

"I know, Jamie. I know you didn't mean it." We stay like that until I breathe deeply and pull myself together, wiping away the tears. We both exit the car and go to the back.

Carl is sitting on the bed of the truck, playing checkers with that little blonde girl that I saw earlier with her family. I guess it doesn't matter that they're strangers when you're stuck here with them. Mom turns to us as we approach.

"Are you getting anything?" she asks Shane. He shakes his head sadly.

"No, there's nothing."

Mom sighs. "Not very surprising," she mumbles disappointedly. He shakes his head again.

"No, I mean there's _nothing_. The emergency broadcasts have just stopped. And that recording about the refugee center…" He shrugs his shoulders, looking frustrated. "It's all gone." Fear and uncertainty shoots through me. So, this is what we get for ignoring those broadcasts about a refugee center in Atlanta earlier. Things were getting pretty bad back home. The reports were getting more frequent, people either fled or barricaded their homes, and they even offered to airlift Dad to an Atlanta hospital. But you know that there's panic when all the technology is cut off. Suddenly, there's an extremely loud sound coming from above us. We all look up and are greeted by the sight of hundreds of planes flying over the horde of cars here on the crowded highway. They're all going in the same direction.

Shane speaks up, "I'm gonna go up the road a ways and see what I can see." Before I even know what's happening, I pipe in.

"I'll come with you." Mom shoots me a warning look.

"Jamie, I don't think you should." That's just like Mom to be overprotective of me. If we're in as much trouble as the broadcasts said we are, she can't keep babying me. Before I can come up with a comeback, Shane is behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

"I'll keep her safe, Lori. She'll be fine with me." Mom hesitates for a few seconds before nodding her head. _'Score!'_ I think excitedly.

"Hey, I wanna come with you!" Carl exclaims. A twelve year old coming scouting with us? I don't think so. Mom tells him so, too.

"We'll be back before you know it, okay little man?" Shane asks, messing with his hair. Carl nods, grinning, and goes back to playing with the girl whose name I still don't know.

Shane and I start to jog ahead of all the cars lining the street. By this time, people have been putting down chairs and grabbing blankets because it seems we're all gonna be stuck here in the middle of the road for quite some time. They all look the same; exhausted, concerned, and scared. I lean in next to Shane, trying my best to keep our conversation semi-private as we continue to walk.

"Why the hell did they stop broadcasting about the refugee center that they haven't shut up about in days?" I ask him. He sighs tiredly.

"I don't know." I'm trying to think of reasons that they stopped radioing in these things. Don't they always send out broadcasts in global emergencies? Even our government's all over the place, not knowing what to do. The one thing we rely on in these situations is just as incompetent as we are.

"Shane, what if… What if they're turning people away? What then?" Shane shakes his head.

"They're gonna have a riot on their hands if they try." That's true. There's no way they can turn us all away now, not after we've spent all day stuck on this highway trying to reach the city. That is, if there's still a refugee center at all. I need to face the fact that there might not be. We continue to weave in and out between cars, trying to find something worth finding. Maybe there's a way out of this.

That's when it happens. A distant *pop* sound goes off in the distance, followed by just as distant screaming from what sounds to be many people. Suddenly, people here on the highway lose their cool. Fights are breaking out left and right. So, the ever anticipated riots have started already. I grip Shane's arm tightly.

"Well, now what the heck are we gonna do?" I ask in frustration. Shane keeps pulling me forward, looking determined.

"I'm gonna do what your dad would've wanted me to do. I'm gonna get you all outta here." Above us, planes fly over our heads again, heading in the direction of the chaos. "What's happening?!" I ask no one in particular. I just want to know what's going on. Why can no one give me answers? Shane grabs onto my wrist.

"You stay with me now! C'mon!" We start to jog forward, getting around to the edge of the cars and off the guardrails into the forest. People have set up tents near the trees and we have a perfect view of Atlanta from here. It's the place where we're all supposed to be driving to, but I have a terrible feeling we're never going to make it. People are ahead of us, looking at the city with their mouths wide open. Shane and I run forward, and then I see why everyone looks so shocked.

The planes overhead are firebombing the city, killing everyone inside the city limits and setting buildings a flame. People are screaming in pain and terror so loudly that I can hear it clearly from all the way over here. It's horrific. I can feel myself freeze in my spot. Even Shane, the calm, cool and collected police officer covers his mouth in shock and tries to say something.

Eventually, he chokes out in horror, "They-They're dropping the A-bomb in the streets…" I don't feel tears come up again. Crying doesn't do anything but make me feel worse. But that still doesn't stop me from being absolutely terrified.

"Shane…" I choke out. He grips me by the waist, pulling me to him and bringing my head to his chest so I can't see the sight of the entire Atlanta population being slaughtered. He's shushing me, assuring me everything will be alright, but I don't buy it for a minute. Sure, it feels nice to be in his arms, but I know that nothing's going to be alright ever again.

"Our lives are over," I murmur into his shirt. "We're all going to die." I don't even know what I'm saying. I really don't want to die. It just seems like the worse-case scenario is the real one now. Shane holds me tighter.

"Don't you say that, Jamie. I'm gonna get you and your Mom and Carl out of here. I promise that I'll keep you safe." For a second, I just let myself feel comforted. I allow myself to buy into his words, if just for a little while.

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**A/N: Jamie may have a temper, but she's more rational than Lori. She doesn't go all crazy on everyone! Thank you for reading and I should have the next chapter up soon.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, how about that season premiere? That. Was. GREAT. I just couldn't get over the fact that Greg from 'Everybody Hates Chris' was there. And that girl who back-sassed Carl when he insisted that walkers were monsters and not pets? I have a feeling that she'll be making a few more appearances. She must be of SOME importance. And Beth, Beth, Beth... Why do all of your boyfriends die? Seriously, either stop dating people or start dating people like Daryl, who are less likely to die. Anyways, let's get on with it, shall we?**

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Carl curls in next to me even closer, suddenly seeming much younger than his twelve years. He seems even younger now that everything's been taken away from him. I, on the other hand, feel hundreds of years older. Now that Dad's gone, I feel like I need to step up and do something, anything. I'm still not quite sure what to make of what's happening or how long it will be this way, but I have to be an adult while it happens. I owe it to my family and more importantly, to Dad. He would have wanted me to grow up and take care of Mom and Carl. That's exactly what I'm going to do.

We've been in this car for at least twenty minutes while Mom and Shane decide what to do. Telling Mom what we saw was hard to do without panicking. She sure lost it, though. This whole thing is just overwhelming. Besides Dad's death, nothing has caught us this off-guard before. We have no idea what to do. We're not crazy survivalists like the father of the family we've befriended (I think his name is Ed), who's been stockpiling supplies for his whole life. We are completely and utterly unprepared for this. We're hungry, tired, and confused. Carl is upset, to top it all off. He's been clinging to me like I'm not his annoying older sister that he wouldn't even think of getting this close to a before Dad got shot. I don't mind, though. If I'm going to be an adult like I said I'd be, I'm going to have to be like a parent to Carl. Mom won't have as much time for him anymore.

"We can't just keep sitting here," I tell Mom and Shane. They both turn around, looking like they haven't slept in weeks. It's alarming, and I briefly wonder if I look like that.

"That's just what I was saying," Shane says. "We're not getting into the city, so we should probably just settle somewhere on the outskirts. We might have to abandon the vehicle, though. There's no way we could get it out of here with this back up." Mom shakes her head to herself.

"Are we really that desperate?" she asks. If only she had seen what I saw with Shane. She would know, like I do now, that we're in a life or death situation now. We _are_ that desperate. Shane nods for me.

"It's come down to that," he says grimly. "We could just go now and find a spot somewhere in the woods. We could make a camp. I packed a few tents." It sounds like a good plan. We can't enter the city, we can't go back to King County, and we certainly can't drive anywhere in this traffic. Fleeing may be our only option at this point.

"We should go for it," I insist. "What other options are left? We're stuck here otherwise, and I don't want to be here when things get ugly." Truthfully, things are already getting kind of ugly. People have been fighting with each other in the middle of the street randomly. It just goes to show how unprepared we all are for disasters. Mom sighs and looks between Carl and me.

"Fine," she says tersely. I give her a small smile that I have to practically force onto my face. I just don't feel like smiling now.

"With that settled, should we unpack our stuff and get a move on?" I ask. Shane gives me a smile that outshines mine and nods.

"That's just what I was thinking." I smile back, giving a genuine one this time. I have a feeling that Shane will be a good person to have around now. He has a good survival instinct and he's always prepared. We'll be safe with him. I open the door and hop out of the car, where I'm instantly greeted with the sound of people shouting at each other added to the loud atmosphere already here. It alarms me even more. If we have nothing to lose, why wouldn't people be willing to fight us or try to loot us? Quickly, I rush to the trunk of the car and grab my duffel bag, along with an extra bag that Shane brought along. I'm guessing it has food or something along those lines in it. When I feel another body next to me, I jump. However, it turns out to be Shane. I sigh in relief and shove him playfully.

"You scared the crap outta me, you know that?" He smirks and grabs some things from the trunk. I'm at least happy to see that I have some reflexes now. I dare anyone here to try and sneak up on me and not get punched in the face.

Mom and Carl follow suit, taking the last of the things out of the trunk and slinging them over their shoulders.

"Should we just jump over the guardrails?" Mom asks.

"Yep," Shane says simply. He puts his hand on Carl's back and gently pushes him in front of us.

"You go over first, bud," he tells him. Carl _is_ the smallest, so that makes sense. He puts his legs over the guardrail and jumps down into the grass. Shane puts his hands on my waist and helps me over. As soon as I get my footing on the small slope in the grass and grab Carl's hand immediately, tightly gripping it to makes sure he doesn't go anywhere. Mom gets over next, and I hand Carl off to her. Finally, Shane gets over the guardrail and clumsily comes down the slope onto the flat grass. Wordlessly, he starts to walk forward, and we start to follow. All I see is dense woods and nothing else. There is no visible place I can see for us to settle for some time.

We weave between trees in what seems to be an endless but beautiful forest.

"Well, I've always wanted to go camping…" I mutter. I look to my side to see Carl trying his best not to grin, which in turn makes me almost start to laugh. When Mom glances at us, I remind myself where I am and immediately banish the slight smile from my face. This is no place for levity.

I wonder how long these woods stretch for. I can't see anything but trees and green. I hope there's at least a stream or a river somewhere. We need some source of water, even if we'd have to boil it before drinking. I have no idea what Shane packed us, but whatever it is, it'll only last us for so long. Until what, I'm not sure. I'm not even sure there'll be a 'what'. I saw Atlanta. I'm convinced that this really might end up being our new reality, and let me tell you, it scares the piss out of me.

I zone out for only a few seconds before I feel a hand clamp over my mouth. Quite naturally, I panic, thinking I'm going to be robbed blind by someone from the highway. No way am I letting anyone take my supplies. But when I turn and am met with Shane's brown eyes looking at me pleadingly, I stop struggling. His gaze goes from me to my right. Slowly, I turn my head and follow his eyes.

When I look in between the trees, I can see a person limping slowly through the forest. He's near us, but far enough away so that he won't see us if we stand still. At first, I wonder why Shane's looking so terrified over a person. He was a cop. He dealt with people all the time. Then I look closer.

This 'person' has a big, gaping wound on their arm that looks like something took a bite out of it. He's a weird shade of pale and his clothes are torn, like he fought with something. His walk is an aimless limp. Then I listen closely. A collection of weird sounding moans and groans are coming from him. It sounds… inhuman. Shane's words echo in my mind. _'The dead are coming back to eat the living.'_

This _thing_ is a walking corpse.

My eyes instinctively dart to Carl. Mom is holding him and covering his mouth. Thank God. I look back to the… thing, praying for it to be gone. It's still limping by slowly, turning its head every which way like it's looking for something. My heart is pounding so loud in my chest that I'm sure Shane can hear it. Finally, the dead man turns his head and starts to stumble back towards the highway. I predict that chaos will occur up there in a few minutes.

"Go, go, go," Shane whispers into my ear. As quietly as I can, I start to run forward, leaving the highway and the dead guy behind me. I run without making any noise. I'm terrified that the thing will hear me and start to come after me. I just run and run, dodging trees and staying light on my feet. I have no clue where I'm going or if anyone is catching up to me. I'm just going. A flash of something appears before me and I try to stop, but I run into a warm, soft mass before I can stop. It makes me fall backwards with a grunt. My first thought is that it must be a dead person walking. If only I had a weapon! What do I do now?

"Are you okay?" Wait, I don't think they speak…

When I look up, I see a blonde girl just some years older than me looking down at me in concern. She doesn't have a bit mark on her and her skin isn't an ungodly pale color. I sigh in relief.

"Thank God you're a living person!" I exclaim. She laughs and helps me up, brushing me off.

"I'm Amy, by the way." She holds her hand out. I grab it and shake her hand happily.

"I'm Jamie, Jamie Grimes. Nice to meet you." Just then, I hear someone shout my name from behind me. Shane rushes up to me with Mom and Carl near him. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Good. You're okay." His eyes dart to Amy, seeming wide eyed. When he realizes, like I had to, that she's alive, he relaxes.

"Well, it's good to see a human being. How'd you get here?" She points behind her.

"I found a little spot to stay with my sister and an old man we met named Dale. He has an RV and he picked us up on a street a little ways away from here. My sister and I are from Florida, so we don't know our way around here." Well, it's a good thing she doesn't, or else she could have been in Atlanta when it was blown up.

"Can we come back with you?" Mom asks hopefully. Amy nods while smiling.

"Sure! The more the merrier!" I think I like this girl. She has definite friend potential now.

She starts to walk forward, beckoning us to walk with her. We follow blindly, just wanting to get out of these woods. It turns out to be a shorter walk than I thought it would be. I guess I ran a lot farther than I thought when I was trying to escape. She leads us to a grassy open space near a small, uninhabited road. I can see hills and mountains near the road and the woods are on either side of the grassy clearing. A Winnebago is parked right near the edge. If I look hard enough, I can see the city. Assorted fires are still burning, making me shiver. I can still remember hearing the screams of the citizens getting burned alive. An older man, maybe sixty or so, steps out of the RV, wearing a Hawaiian shirt over a white tank top and a hat you would wear while fishing on a pond. He looks relatively friendly. A blonde woman who looks like Amy, but older, follows him.

"Who'd you bring back?" the old man, who I'm assuming is Dale, asks her. I step forward before Amy has to explain anything.

"My name is Jamie Grimes. Amy found us all in the woods and helped us out." The other blonde woman gives Amy a small nod, as if to say, 'good job'.

"I'm Andrea, Amy's older sister, and this is Dale, our friend. It's nice to meet people who aren't trying to eat us." Shane, Mom and Carl all introduce themselves before Dale takes us near another part of the forest where there's very little trees so we can set up our tents. He explains that there's a quarry below the hill we're on with a large lake. There's also a river nearby us. As he explains, I stop listening, just thinking one thing; Dad would be proud of us for getting this far.

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**A/N: Thank you for reading! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go off and think about the season 4 premiere for another 4 hours...**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm noticing that I seem to update right after the new episodes... I guess seeing new episodes gets my creative juices flowing! I was thinking lately of maybe bypassing writing all of season 2 and just writing in some key moments in season 2, but I still have to think about it. I was only considering it because I don't want to be super far behind, which I am at the moment. I'll have to think about it.**

* * *

It's been a month. Yes, a whole month. It's been a month since the world ended, a month since Dad died, and a month since I joined this ever expanding group with Mom, Carl and Shane. Now we're up in numbers.

A day after we found Amy, Andrea and Dale, the family from the highway stumbled into the woods and joined us. I learned that the mother's name is Carol, the father's name is Ed, like I thought, and the little girl's name is Sophia. She and Carl get along well, and I'm glad he has a playmate, but I know that Ed hits Carol, and it pisses me off _a lot_. I just want to punch him into next week and see how he likes it. I know it's none of my business, but I tend to butt into other people's lives a little bit too often because, well, I like to think of myself as a semi-nice person at times. I just like to fix things.

Just a few days after them, a man named T-Dog came here with a young man named Glenn. It was quite a sight, seeing the two of them turn up in a church van, Glenn looking like a teenager in a baseball cap and T-Dog cursing up a storm over being unable to find gas for his van. I get along with the both of them, especially Glenn. He's closer to my age and more relatable. He lost his mother and sisters, and I lost Dad. Bonding over mutual loss is common now when everyone has lost someone or something. It's almost as common as talking about the weather.

Next came Jacqui, then Jim. I don't know much about either, but I'm fine with them.

The Morales family came after them, and they have two kids around Carl's age. They're all very kind and hardworking people, and Morales has that reassuring paternal aura about him that draws me to him for advice.

Then came the Dixon brothers. What can I say about them? Daryl is okay. Sure, he's a little rough around the edges, but I can be too. I think everyone is now. Merle, however, is a freaking nightmare. He's either high out of his mind or insulting everyone in the group aimlessly. How he got drugs when the world ended, I don't know. On top of that, Amy and I have to put up with him wolf-whistling and slapping us on the butt whenever we walk by. I guess since we're the youngest females, he decided we were open for business. Whenever he does that, I just give him the finger and walk right on by, but it bothers me more than I let it show. I just won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. One time Shane caught him trying to cop a feel. Boy did he flip.

Besides all these people, we have some others who just seemed to pop up out of nowhere and whom I've never spoken to. We just all co-exist as best as we can. I rely on some of them more than I do others.

It's only been a month, but life has been tough. We all have to get used to the fact that all of the comforts of our old lives that we used to have are gone, probably forever. We're constantly dirty and tired, and hunger lingers in us at almost times. Sure, we eat enough to stay alive, but a lot of times, we have to forgo any extra food if we want to eat the next day. I'm at an advantage because I have a small appetite.

We work hard every day just to keep this camp going. We do runs into the walker (I finally know what to call those things) infested city occasionally if we're running low on supplies, and today is one of those days. Mom and Shane won't let me go with them yet again. I'm sixteen, able bodied, quick, and responsible, yet I'm still being treated like a baby. It gets tiring. As I watch Morales, Andrea, T-Dog, Glenn, Merle, and Jacqui ride off in the van, I slump my shoulders in disappointment. I don't want to be a burden to this camp. I want to prove that I can do something to keep them safe. Sixteen isn't that young. In other cultures, girls my age were married. Hell, some girls in my high school were moms!

I sigh heavily and go back to witling away on this stupid stick with a knife that Glenn got me on his last run to the city. I already know how to use a gun after Dad taught me when I turned thirteen, so I familiarized myself with other weapons just in case we have a walker run in. Besides, it makes me feel safe knowing how to use various weapons. I'm not the best, but I'm good enough not to get killed.

Shane sits down next to me and looks at me. I ignore him in favor for my pathetic little stick. I'm still angry that he and Mom are treating me like I can't do anything, and if I speak to him, I might say something I'll regret later. I have a temper sometimes, but I'm not irrational with it like Mom; I know when to keep my mouth shut so I won't offend anyone. I had to train myself to stay quiet so I would survive high school.

"What, you pissed at me?" he asks. It's like he can read my mind sometimes. It just makes me madder. I don't want him in my head.

"You can be pissed at me all you want, it ain't gonna change anything. I'm not letting you go into the city." That's it. I throw down my stick and glare at him.

"And why is that? I can use weapons, I'm quick, and I'm smart. Why do you and my mom insist on treating me like a baby?!" He tries to put a hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off and stand up. Shane stands up with me, throwing his arms up in defeat.

"I make you feel like sometimes you wanna slap me upside the head? Tell you what, sweetheart; you feel that need, you go right ahead. I'm right here. Go on." I sigh and look at Shane. I want to smack Merle and Ed, not him.

"I'm not going to slap you upside the head, you idiot," I say, smirking. Shane smiles at me, but then turns serious.

"I'm not putting you in danger for anything, Jamie. You can't go running off trying to prove yourself. If not for yourself, don't do it for your mom and Carl. They lost your dad, and they can't lose you too. That's exactly what's gonna happen if you go off by yourself because you think you can handle it." As much as I want to say that I could handle myself, Shane might be right. I really can't just go off and try to be useful like I want to. If Mom and Carl lost me, I don't know what they would do. I guess I have to be content with the work I'm allowed to do, no matter how mundane it is.

"Okay," I whisper. Shane grins. It's one of his signature grins that make everything seem great in the world, despite the fact that nothing is even close to okay. Hesitantly, like he's afraid of scaring me off, he kisses my forehead. I don't know why he hesitated. He's kissed my forehead plenty of times before. I've known him since birth, after all.

"I'm just gonna go chop up some wood over there," he says. I nod and tuck my knife back into my belt. We've never seen a walker this far out in the woods, but we're close enough to the city for it to be a risk. I want to be prepared just in case.

The cackling of the CB alarms me. We've kept the CB on just in case there are other survivors trying to reach us, but it hasn't been doing us much good yet. I look closer at the CB, like I'm waiting for something. There has to be a reason it's making noise.

_'Hello, hello, can anybody hear my voice?'_ what sounds to be a man asks through the CB. My whole body freezes up in shock before I can reach the CB to respond like I should. Amy, however, throws down the bundle of firewood in her hands and rushes over to the CB, picking up the receiver.

"Hey, hello?" she asks frantically into the speaker. I hold my breath in anticipation.

_'Can anybody hear my voice?' _is what I think I hear the cracking radio say. Someone IS on the line! Amy smiles.

"Yes, yes, I can hear you! You're coming through, over." My excitement is building at the thought of meeting someone else. When most everyone is dead, the thought of just one more living person is exciting.

_'Anybody reads, please respond.' _My excitement deflates a bit. He can't hear us. He thinks no one else is on the line. _'Broadcasting on emergency channel. We're approaching Atlanta on Highway 85. If anybody reads, please respond.'_ I shut my eyes tightly and pinch the bridge of my nose. Whoever this was is a dead man as soon as he enters the city. The walkers will eat him alive. Amy, however, still has some faith in the old CB.

"We're just outside the city," she tries to say. The cackling noise just gets louder. "Dammit," she mutters in frustration. "Hello? Hello?!" She looks at me and shakes her head. "He couldn't hear me, I couldn't warn him!" I look over my shoulder.

"Shane!" I call.

I hear the sharp, metallic sound of Shane's ax splitting the tree stump the CB rests on before he grabs the receiver.

"Hello, hello, is the person who called still on the air?" He puts is near his ear, waiting a few seconds for a response. Much to my dismay, it doesn't come. "This is Officer Shane Walsh, broadcasting to person unknown, please respond." He puts it near his ear again and yet again, there's no response. Frowning, he places the receiver down on the tree stump. "He's gone," Shane tells us sadly. Like we didn't already know that.

"There are others," Mom says hopefully. "It's not just us." Well, of course we knew that. There's not only fifteen or so people left in the world. Other people survived.

"Well, we knew there would be, right? That's why we left the CB on," Shane says. Mom raises her eyebrows.

"Lot of good it's been doin'." Her tone doesn't amuse me. I think leaving the CB on is a good idea. At least some people would have some sense to try and connect with a police CB. I wouldn't renounce it so quickly. "And I've been saying for a week we outta put signs up on 85 and warn people away from the city." Now _that's_ a bad idea.

"Folks got no idea what they're getting into," Amy adds. True, but going to 85 just to put signs up is too risky. Sure, going into the city is risky in general, but that's needed for supply runs. Why should we go risk our lives for signs?

"We haven't had time," Shane tells Mom with finality in his voice. She refuses to drop the subject.

"I think we need to make time," Mom says. I look at her like she's crazy. That's exactly what she's being right now. This isn't a game. This would require time, energy, and people willing to go on 85 and put themselves in danger to put up signs that no one will probably see besides the guy who tapped into the CB, a guy who's probably long gone by now. Shane's rubbing his face, covered in stubble from a month without shaving.

"Yeah, that's a luxury we can't afford." His voice sounds shaky, but still with the same finality in it. "We are surviving here, we are day to day." I nod, backing up Shane.

"And who the hell would you propose we send?" Dale asks Mom. Every likely candidate besides Shane and, in my opinion, me is in Atlanta right now scavenging for supplies.

"I'll go. Give me a vehicle," Mom demands. I roll my eyes. Yeah, right. Mom isn't all that handy with these things. She's better off looking after Carl.

"No one goes anywhere alone, you know that." She glares at Shane, and I decide I should speak up.

"It's a stupid idea, Mom. And it's one that might not even pay off. Whoever called is too far gone by now, and there may not be anyone in the future. We'll go into the city if we need supplies, but going to 85 just to put signs up? That's just reckless, especially when we're already hesitant to go there for things we actually need." We have a stare off for a few seconds before she looks at the ground.

"Fine," she mutters, heading back to our tent. Shane slaps me on the back.

"Thanks for backing me up," he says. I shrug.

"Don't mention it." I'll admit it, I still wish he would let me go to the city, but I'm not angry over it anymore. I understand why he won't let me, even if I don't agree with it. He just cares about me.

"Hey, want to come pick some mushrooms with me?" Amy asks me. I consider it. Picking mushrooms is quite a boring task, but it's something to keep us occupied. At least I won't be sitting here waiting for everyone to get back.

"Sure," I say. Amy's become a good friend, especially under the circumstances, so I don't mind spending time with her, no matter what it is we're doing. She smiles and hauls me up from the log.

"Well, let's go! We have to get finished before everyone gets back."

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**A/N: Well, I really have nothing to say, so thank you for reading and reviewing!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, I know my updating is a tiny bit slow, but at least I'm getting to it! Anyone else excited for the new episode tonight? Something tells me that Tyresse's sister (I know her name, but not how to spell it) is gonna get it. I don't know why. It's just a feeling I have. And one thing I do know; if Judith dies, I. Will. Be. Pissed. That is all.**

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As it turns out, we had a lot more time than we thought we would have. It's getting late and storm clouds are forming over us. The thunder can be heard overhead and off to the distance. Still, our friends aren't back yet. This is the type of weather I used to love; there's a slight chill in the air and the clouds are dark, the winds are blowing slightly, the air is pleasantly cool, and there's an exciting anticipation for the coming storm that makes me want to dance around in time with the wind. Now, it just concerns me.

Amy's pacing around and I'm watching Shane teach Carl how to tie a knot. The knot in my stomach, meanwhile, is tightening with each passing second. The people who left, excluding Merle Dixon, are my friends. There's never been a problem with getting back quickly before. Glenn usually went by himself. Sometimes others came, but even then, they were in and out quickly, coming back way before it got dark.

"They should have been back by now!" Amy exclaims while pacing around anxiously. I wish I could say something to comfort her, but I don't have any answers that could please her. As morbid as it sounds, we'll only know in time if there's even a chance they're alive. That's just the way things are now, and it pisses me off. It seems everything pisses me off now. The cackling of the CB makes me jump off the log and near the RV.

It's hard to make out, but I think I hear, _'Base camp; this is T-Dog. Can anybody hear me?'_ I sigh in relief. They aren't dead. Well, at least T-Dog isn't. One person is better than none. We all gather around the RV while Dale climbs onto the roof, grabbing the receiver for the CB.

"Hello, hello? Reception's bad on this end; repeat, repeat." I'm pretty sure I heard it just fine, though. Another muffled voice comes in from the CB that's losing reception. Dale's fixing the nobs, trying to get better sound.

_'We're trapped in a department store,'_ comes T-Dog's muffled voice.

My heart sinks. Now there's very little chance they'll make it back alive. How many more people do I have to lose, for god's sake? I look over to Shane, who's rubbing his neck, a nervous tick of his that I've noticed from being in close quarters with him for the past month.

"He said they're trapped," he tells the people who didn't hear. I vaguely hear T-Dog say something else, but it's too fuzzy to make out entirely. All I heard were the words 'geeks' and 'surrounded', which is enough to know that my friends aren't making it back. I want to scream, cry or break something. I wish I could just find a walker and stab it in the head repeatedly, one time for each of the people I've lost today. It's such an odd feeling; I'm mourning already for people who aren't yet dead, so there's still some hope somewhere. But who am I kidding? They're as good as dead.

"He said the department store," Mom says.

"I heard it too," Dale adds in frantically. The rest of us are dead silent, our heads facing downwards. The only sounds are the thunder from the dark clouds above us.

"Shane…" Mom starts.

"No way," he cuts her off, knowing what she wants to suggest. "We do not go after them. We do not risk the rest of the group. Y'all know that." As much as it hurts, I have to agree. If they're trapped in, that must mean a whole horde of geeks are on them. We'd be dead. There's absolutely no way we could go there, save them, and come back alive. If there was even a slim chance, I would say yes.

"So you're just gonna leave her?" Amy asks, referring to Andrea. Oh no, Andrea. I almost forgot Amy's older sister is there too. They're all the other has left now. Without Andrea, Amy is alone, despite having the rest of us around. Shane walks towards her.

"Look, Amy, I know that this is not easy-,"

Amy cuts him off, "She volunteered to go. To help the rest of us!" Shane sighs and nods.

"She knew the risks, right? If she's trapped, she's gone." I wish Shane could have put it a little more delicately, but then I think back to him telling me that Dad died. There's no 'easy' way to tell someone that they'll never see a loved one again. It hurts no matter what you say, and they're going to be mad no matter how you put it. Amy stares at him with her big, innocent looking blue eyes, looking so sad and forlorn. "So we just have to deal with that. There's nothing we can do," he finishes gently. Suddenly, Amy's face contorts into a mask of rage directed at Shane.

"She's my _sister_. You son of a bitch." Before I have a chance to reach out to comfort her, Amy runs away from us, into the forest. I'm glad she ran away. I'm terrible at comfort. Silence befalls us yet again, letting us listen to the soft sounds of thunder rolling and the distant crickets chirping. The anger has worn off by now, and all I want to do is curl up in my tent and cry myself to sleep, something I haven't done, or let myself do, since our first night in Atlanta after I found out Dad died. There's no point in crying anymore. Crying won't solve _anything_. This can't be happening to me _again_. It seems like everyone I care about ends up dead.

Why do I bother getting close to people again?

* * *

The storm has passed by now, but not the one going on in my brain. It's swirling with so many emotions that I haven't really experienced since Dad died. Anger, sadness, hurt; they're all just a jumbled mess in my head. While here, I just sort of went by on autopilot. Emotions weren't a big factor of my existence here, except anger, something I've always been big on. You don't really need many emotions to do labor and survive. I miss them, but not these emotions I'm experiencing right now. I guess I'll have to get used to it, though. I'll be losing a lot of people in the future. Right now, I just want to be alone, but of course, that's impossible in this stupid, god-forsaken camp.

So, instead, I'm watching Mom give Carl a haircut. Besides Amy, I feel like I'm the only one still dwelling on our lost group members. Mom's telling Carl to stay still and he's complaining about it. Shane's talking about how he'll be more uncomfortable when he shaves, and the two are going back and forth, saying something about catching frogs in the pond tomorrow. Usually, I'd contribute, but not today. I don't have the energy.

"Heroes, son, spoken of in song and legend! You and me; Shane and Carl." I'm guessing he's talking about catching frogs. Shane leans towards me. "And maybe even Jamie." I look back into his eyes, giving a small smile, the only one I've given for a while. He smiles back lightly, his eyes sparkling.

*Beep, beep, beep* I hear from the distance. We all whip our heads around towards the road when we hear what sounds like a car alarm. My heart speeds up. It's them, it has to be. I jump to my feet and race towards the road, distantly hearing Shane calling for me to stop. I don't care. All I can think is that my friends are still alive. They're okay! I want to see them!

"Is it them? Are they back?" Amy asks. I jump up and down in excitement.

"It has to be!" I exclaim. I hear Dale say he sees a car, and I just know they're back. I just know it! Finally, a nice red car pulls up, the alarm still blaring. The door opens and out walks Glenn, one of my best friends. Without thinking, I jump at him, gathering him up in a huge hug.

"You scared me to death, you idiot! I can't believe you made it!" He wraps his arms around me gratefully.

"Nice to see you too, Jamie!" This is too good to be true, isn't it? Where's everyone else? There's a frenzy, with everyone asking questions about the well-being of the others and some people complaining about the noise the car is making. Amy's bombarding Glenn with questions about Andrea, to which he shouts over the blaring alarm that she's okay and she's coming back. I sigh in relief. Maybe all the others are okay too. For the first time in a while, I feel really, truly happy.

The sound finally stops when someone rips something out from under the hood of the car. My eardrums are quite grateful for that. Shane, however, looks less than happy.

"You crazy, driving this wheeling bastard up here? You trying to draw every walker for miles?" Well, I didn't think of that. I hope there isn't a group of them on their way here right now.

"I think we're okay," Dale tells Shane.

"You call being stupid okay?" Shane shoots back.

"That alarm was echoing all over these hills, hard to pinpoint the source." Now that I think about that, I feel slightly better about it. So maybe I won't be eaten alive by drooling monsters. I'd say today is a good day. After getting a thorough scolding by Dale, Glenn bows his head in embarrassment.

"Sorry…" he tries. "I got a cool car, though." This is why I like Glenn. 'Mr. Brightside' is a good guy to have around now.

I hear another car, this one alarm less, rolling up near Glenn's new car. It's a van, big enough to hold everyone. Andrea jumps out first, running to meet Amy. The two meet halfway and my heart melts when I see the two embrace.

"You scared the shit out of me," Amy laughs. Morales brings his wife and children close while Jacqui and T-Dog greet everyone who missed them. I feel oddly out of place. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled they're back, but I'm starting to realize that there's no one really here for me. None of them came back for me. They came back for others.

"Come here, sweetie." Mom leads Carl off, bending down to his level. I see tears in his eyes. He's probably thinking of Dad. I know I am too. These reunions are hard to witness, knowing we'll never get one with him. I know he would've been in that group had he survived and come with us. He would be the most helpful person here. Shane and I look on as everyone hugs our once-missing friends. I bet he feels as out of place as I do.

"How'd y'all get outta there, anyway?" Shane asks.

"New guy," Glenn answers. "He got us out." I raise my eyebrows. A new guy? Could it possibly be the guy we lost on the CB? If so, he's one lucky man.

"Yeah, crazy vato just got into town," Morales adds. "Hey helicopter boy! Come say hello!" he calls over to the van. He looks towards Shane. "Guy's a cop, like you." I look back to Morales for a split second, then back to Shane. But his eyes are near the van. He looks paralyzed and shocked. What could be so surprising? Does this new guy have three limbs or something? I don't doubt anything now. I look over to the van and see a man stepping back out. He's in a sheriff's uniform, with curly black hair, stubble, and unmistakable blue eyes. Unmistakable because they're _mine_. This isn't just a new guy.

This is Dad.

But this… this can't be possible. Dad's _dead_. He's _dead_. He's _been_ dead for a month. Yet… here he is, alive and obviously not a walker, looking straight into my eyes with his eyes that are suddenly getting misty. My initial shock is wearing off, and fast. Why am I standing here? This is Dad! I've been mourning him for a month. I've missed him so much that I swear there's a gaping hole in my heart. I've been angry at anyone and everyone because he's been gone. But here he is, and I just want to hug him.

"DAD! DAD!" I shout as loud as I can, running towards him. I launch myself into his arms, the arms that used to comfort me when I was upset, and he holds me tightly. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, smelling the comforting scent of his police shirt he wore all the time before the world ended. It smells the same, but with a slight hint of the dead, which lines everything now. The tears start to flow as it hits me; he's here, he's alive, and he's not going anywhere. I'm crying happy tears for once. I tighten my grip, like he'll disappear if I dare let go. He still feels the same, and he's still warm and strong. When I hear a noise, I suddenly become aware that he's crying, too.

"Jamielee, my little girl…," he's crying softly. Carl wiggles his little body into the hug and Dad moves his arm to accommodate him. Quickly after Carl joins us, Mom wraps her arms around Dad, sandwiching Carl and me in the middle of them. If I thought I was happy before, now I'm really experiencing true, pure happiness. Dad's back and all the pieces fit together. Now we're really surviving this as a family. I have my father, my best friend back.

"You're really back," I whisper into his shirt. He laughs quietly.

"You didn't think I'd actually leave you, did you Jamie?"

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**A/N: I freakin' LOVE reunions! I love writing them AND I love reading them. They're so wonderful in a way I can't describe!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Sadly, I had homework this Halloween. :( Teachers; they just don't understand the importance of this holiday to me. And to the guest reviewer who asked whether or not this was going to be a Shane/Jamie romance fic? My answer is this; I have no idea. I'm playing it by what I find suits me and the people reading. If it's any help, I do suck at writing romance and tend to make it as little much as possible.**

* * *

My head is comfy on Dad's leg as he tells the story of how he woke up in the hospital, alone, and stumbled out.

"Disoriented. I guess that comes closest; disoriented. Fear, confusion, all those things, but… disoriented comes closest." We all sit in silence here in the dark near the campfire, taking in Dad's story.

"Words can be meager saying. Sometimes they fall short." Dale adds. I nod, pressing myself further next to Dad's warm body.

"I felt like I had been ripped out of my life and put somewhere else. For a while I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I might not wake up from ever." I still think I'm in a dream sometimes. This all feels so surreal, like I could wake up tomorrow in my old bed, in my room, with life still bustling outside my window.

"And I thought I had it bad," I say. "At least I had time to process it." Dad pets my hair, while Carl looks up at him.

"Mom said you died," he says simply. Yeah, I wonder what that was about…

Wait; Shane said Dad had died. But here he is, alive and well. Was Shane lying to me, to us? That doesn't sound like the Shane I've come to know.

"She had every reason to believe that. Don't you ever doubt it," Dad assures Carl. Sure she did, because Shane told her. I'm too happy right now to be angry at Shane, but try me later. That might change. Mom turns to look at Dad.

"When things started to get really bad, they told me at the hospital that they were gonna medevac you and the other patients to Atlanta. And it never happened." And it's a good thing it didn't. Dad would be a pile of ashes right now.

"Well, I'm not surprised after Atlanta fell. And from the look of that hospital, it got overrun." So he was in an overrun hospital after just waking up? I feel even worse now. I should have been there for him when he woke up. I should have stayed.

"Looks don't deceive," Shane adds. "I barely got them out." I look at Shane critically, trying to see his real emotions at Dad's reappearance. So far, he's seemed happy and excited, like the rest of us. But I'm still trying to figure out why he said that Dad had died. What made him think that? Did he just assume it? Obviously, Dad was not dead at all.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane. I can't begin to express it." Dad's words make Shane give him a small smile before looking down at the ground. It becomes a little too quiet for my tastes.

"Well, weren't we saying how words just fall short anyway?" I blurt out. Light laughter spreads across the circle. Then silence again. Sometimes, with these people, you don't need words to keep useless conversations going. Social niceties are not worth out time anymore.

A fire cackling behind us makes us all turn around. There's Ed the scumbag adding another log into his fire. And I thought he was a survivalist! Does he really want to attract walkers? God, this man is a bigger idiot than I ever expected.

"Hey Ed," Shane calls. "Wanna rethink that log?" Hell yes he should rethink that log. I'm not getting gnawed on by undead monsters all because this moron doesn't like to play well with others.

"It's cold, man," is all he says in response. I feel bad for poor Carol and Sophia, who are sitting near him, embarrassed by his actions. He isolates them from us as much as he can.

"Cold don't change the rules, does it? Keep our fires low to just an ember so we can't be seen from a distance, right?" Shane's looking at him, stiffly but calmly. It's scarier than him being angry. It's like a snake that's getting ready to strike. Still, Ed doesn't get the memo.

"I said it's cold. Why don't ya mind your own business for once?" Yep, he just crossed the line.

Shane gets up out of his seat and walks over to him. I just hope this doesn't get ugly. None of us need this right now. I'm in a rare good mood for once.

"Ed," Shane says quietly, firmly. "You sure you wanna have this conversation?" Most logical people would be afraid of Shane's 'bad-cop' attitude if they had half a brain. And it seems that Ed does have one.

"Go on," he tells Carol. "Pull the damn thing out."

My anger intensifies. How dare he tell her to pull out a burning log when he put it in himself? He has two hands, he can get off his lazy butt every once in a while.

"Why don't you pull it out your own damn self?" The words come out quickly, before I even have an opportunity to process what I've done. Usually, I can contain what I'm thinking, but sometimes, it comes out when I see something that I really don't like. Everyone turns around to stare at me.

"What'd you just say to me, little girl?" Ed demands. I know I should probably just be the bigger person and stop, but I can't back down from something I started. It just goes against my nature and every bone in my body. I want to put Ed in his place.

"You heard me. Fix your own mistake. Be useful for once instead of being that guy who sits on his ass and complains all day." His face goes a cherry red and he starts to stand up. Despite Ed being wider than he is tall, he still towers over me a considerable amount, so him standing up, prepared to walk over to me, is the last thing I want to see. I feel Dad grip me to him tighter.

"Now you listen to me, you little-," Shane puts a hand on his chest and sits him back down.

"Not today," he says angrily, pulling out the burning log and putting out the fire with his foot. He walks back over to us, giving my shoulder a little squeeze on the way back to his seat. I don't know if it's meant to be disapproving or a 'job well done' type of thing. I sure hope it's the latter.

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?" Dale asks. "He won't be too happy to hear his brother's been left behind." I almost forgot Merle was left in Atlanta because he, like Ed, doesn't play well with others. And knowing Daryl, there's gonna be hell to pay.

"I'll tell him. I dropped the key, it's on me." T-Dog's always been the kind, moral, self-sacrificing type. It's admirable, but I'd rather not face Daryl and his crossbow and live to see tomorrow.

Dad cuts in, "I handcuffed him. That makes him mine." It's like they're debating who Merle belongs to, like he's property. I don't really care, though. That's how he treated me, even though I wasn't in any way his.

"Guys, it's not a competition," Glenn insists. "And I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy." It's obviously directed at T-Dog, who's black. He and Merle never got along because Merle was a huge racist. I've always thought that racism is useless during the end of the world. Who the hell cares what race you are anymore?

"I did what I did," T-Dog admits. "I've got nothing to hide from."

What about Daryl Dixon's hunting knife, for starters?

"We could lie," Amy suggests. I smile and wink at her. Great minds think alike.

"Or tell the truth," Andrea insists. She looks over at Mom. "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed. Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's." I don't see any rational discussion coming from those words directed at a heavily-armed Daryl Dixon.

"But, um, I don't really want an arrow through mine or anyone else's head, so how about we not say those exact words?" I suggest. Dad smiles a little bit at my dark humor and ruffles my hair. I sigh and continue.

"Whatever way we tell him, Daryl is going to be beyond angry and probably try to kill us all. When he gets back from his hunt, prepare for all hell to break loose." That's an understatement, though. Daryl will unleash levels of hell we never even knew existed.

After a long, awkward silence, Dad claps his hands together.

"Well, I think I'm gonna turn in for the night." We all mumble agreements and split up to either go to our tents or to the RV. Just as we're nearing our tent, I realize a problem. With Dad here, there's not enough room in the Grimes family tent.

"We don't have enough beds and blankets in here for all four of us," I say. Mom looks at Dad then back to me. I know what she's trying to say; I should bunk with someone else tonight. I know just the person, too.

"I'll just stay in Shane's tent for tonight until we figure this out," I suggest. Dad looks at me, seeming unconvinced.

"I don't know…"

I cut him off. "Dad, this is Shane we're talking about. He'll keep me safe. I'll be fine."

Reluctantly, he nods before bringing me into a hug and kissing my head.

"Goodnight, Leelee. I love you," I blush at the horrific nickname that I have surprisingly come to miss.

"I love you too," I tell him before bidding my family goodnight for Shane's tent, which is not that far away.

Without any warning, I open the flap of Shane's tent and enter. When I do, I realize why I should have called out to him first. I avert my eyes from a shirtless Shane, who's trying to change his pants. He jumps when he sees me and pulls up his sleep pants quickly.

"Jesus, Jamie, you scared the ever loving crap outta me! What is it you want?" I open my mouth, but find myself falling short. My cheeks are burning red over seeing Shane half-naked. Sure, he's good looking man, I guess, but that's not something I see every day.

"There's, uh, no room in our tent for me, so I was, uh, just wondering if I could…" Shane sighs and gestures to some of the extra blankets and pillows next to where he sleeps.

"Sure. Get in." I smile and gratefully kick off my converse and take off my long sleeve red and black plaid shirt, leaving me in my black tank top and jeans. I snuggle into the warm blankets, bringing them up to my chin. After a whole day of working, worrying, and crying, I'm exhausted and frankly, I don't really care that I forgot to bring my change into my pajamas. I sink my head into my pillow, ready to fall into a deep sleep, when a thought occurs to me.

"Shane, were you positive Dad was dead?" I ask. In my flustered state, I almost forgot the question that's been hounding me since Dad got back. Shane turns over to look at before sitting up and nodding vigorously.

"I swear that I thought he was gone, Jamie. I listened for a heartbeat and I did not hear one. I don't know if it was the gunfire or all the screaming, but I just…" He rubs his forehead as he gets back into his little makeshift bed next to me.

"It's okay, Shane," I whisper sleepily. Call me a sucker, but I believe him. Dad's his best friend. He wouldn't abandon him in the hospital unless he was sure he was dead. I know him well enough to keep my cool and not lash out at him pointlessly. Dad's her now and it doesn't make a difference whether or not Shane did the right thing. He only did what he could. Content with that knowledge, I fall to sleep, hearing Shane's steady breathing beside me.

* * *

The sound of activity and life outside the tent wakes me up. I open my bleary eyes to see Shane's gone. Sighing, I hop up and throw on my plaid shirt from yesterday, along with my converse shoes. I don't care about wearing the same thing two times in a row. Fashion is not a concern now, nor was it really ever to me.

I jump out of the tent and get ready to begin a new day, finally excited about what's in store now that Dad's here. I am now among one of the lucky few who has lost no family. Strangely enough, it makes me feel bad. I'm much better off than so many people here. Most of these people are the last ones left in their family. Now I'm lucky enough to have my whole family here, alive and well. I'm extraordinarily lucky, and I don't intend to take that for granted.

When I walk to the RV, everyone is up and going about their day. It seems Dad and I got up at the same time, which is much later than most people. He's standing over by Glenn, who's looking at Dale, Jim and Morales in disdain as they strip the car he brought back yesterday. His attachment to it was already made fairly clear. I bounce over to them in a good mood.

"What's happening, people?" I ask in a bubbly voice, which shocks me. 'Bubbly' is nowhere near the first word I'd use to describe myself. Glenn barely acknowledges me, keeping his eyes on the car he only got to use once.

"Look at 'em. Vultures..." Dad and I chuckle a little bit at his over-dramatic attitude.

"Go on, strip it clean," he calls to the three men bitterly. Dale pats his shoulder sympathetically.

"Generators need every drop of fuel they can get. Got no power without it. Sorry, Glenn." Glenn accepts this, but he doesn't look too happy to lose his pretty new car. I'd be sad, too. We don't get stuff like this all too often.

"I thought I'd get to drive it at least a few more days," he says sadly. Dad pats his back.

"Maybe we'll get to steal another one someday," he tells Glenn hopefully before walking off, leaving just Glenn and I. A comfortable silence develops between the two of us as we watch his pretty red car being dismantled.

"So, it's pretty cool that your dad's back," he says casually. Despite the fact that Glenn has no family and I should be more considerate of that, I nod with a smile on my face. I can't help it; the fact that I have Dad back just makes me ecstatic.

"He seems like a good guy," Glenn mentions. "He did help us get out of Atlanta." I still wonder how he pulled that off. I guess my dad's a bit of a badass, huh? I glance back over at Dad, who's talking to Mom. She doesn't look happy; great. He's been here a day and she's already back to fighting with him? Like usual, I have a feeling I'm going to take his side.

"Yeah, he is a good guy. I'll see you later, okay Glenn?" I walk over to them, making sure to place my body in between them.

"So, what are you two talking about?" I ask nonchalantly, like I'm talking about the weather. Dad glances at Mom then back to me.

"How would you feel if I went back to Atlanta for Merle?" I blink at him. He wants to go back for _that_ jackass?

"Merle Dixon? The man who likes to sit around and snort coke? The guy who slaps me on the butt every time I walk past him?" Dad raises his eyebrows, obviously not amused by the second part of my sentence. "Okay, so I'll be castrating him when he gets back, but I can't just-,"

Dad's cut off by an ear splitting scream, followed by Carl yelling.

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**A/N: Tada! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put on comfy pj's after wearing this zombie hunter costume and pass out on my bed. Have a nice life, peoples!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Man, I've just been having a bad week in general. Writing helps take the edge off. I know, I'm weird for using it as a stress reliever, but it's either this or drinking, SOOOO... I swear, that was a joke! Well, anyway, no more of my rambling; on with the story!**

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Everything and anything runs through my brain when I hear my little brother screaming in terror. My first coherent thought?

Carl's getting attacked by walkers.

And I can't let that happen. I refuse to let that happen.

I take off to the direction of the screaming.

"Carl!" I shout into the woods at the same time as Mom. It's not only me who takes off to look for him, but also Mom, Dad, and Shane among others. However, I'm in the front, spurred on by thoughts of Carl surrounded by walkers.

"Mom! Dad! Jamie!" Carl's screaming for all of us now and I speed up to a speed I never thought I could reach. I'm not letting my little brother be ripped apart by these things. Is this what I get for having a complete family now? Will my little brother die right after we got Dad back? No, no I won't let that happen. I'd much sooner let myself be ripped apart than let him be near those things.

"Carl! Baby!" Mom shouts. Carl comes running towards us, and relief floods my body. I let him run into Mom's arms, knowing he's okay, but still wanting to kill whatever tried to hurt him. I grip my knife and run past him, a little slower now, towards where he came from. Shane, Dad, Dale, Jim, and Glenn follow me through more bushes and past more trees.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see it; a filthy, rotten walker gnawing on a dead deer. It must be what Carl saw, what almost killed him. While everyone else is handling this in a calm, careful way by trying to see if any other walkers are around, all I can see is red. This… This _monster_ could've bit my little brother, who doesn't even have a weapon to defend himself. I could have had to watch him burn out from the fever, knowing that I could do _nothing _at all to stop it.

I grip the knife tighter, feeling the indent hurt my palm and not caring. The red coats my vision again, like it's swallowing my eyes. Feeling my adrenaline take over, I step forward and plunge my knife into the walker's skull, reveling in the sound it makes as it sinks in… over and over and over again.

"Do. Not. Get. Near. My. Little. Brother. You. Drooling. FREAKS!" I accentuate each word with a stab to the brain. It went down after the first, but I get in quite a lot of stabs before I call it good. My breathing is labored, my vision is shaky, but I feel great. I finally killed my first walker. I just proved to myself that I'm useful. Maybe I'll be allowed to go on supply runs now.

When I turn around, everyone is staring at me like I've just grown three heads. I throw my hands up.

"What?" I ask impatiently. I got rid of this disease infested cockroach and they're acting like they just saw a five year old do it. Just because I'm a sixteen year old girl doesn't mean I can't help defend and protect the camp. They all quickly shake their heads and move on, probably not wanting to provoke the temper they know I have.

"They never come this far up the mountains," Dale says, confused.

"Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what," Jim answers. Great, so we have another problem. If they run out of food in the city and come here, camp isn't safe anymore, then where will we go? We don't have anywhere else to go. A rustling sound comes from the woods, causing us all to jump. I clench my knife tightly in my hand, raising it to strike. Everyone else has their weapon at the ready, waiting to face another walker.

What actually comes out of the woods is just a frustrated, cranky Daryl Dixon, which can either be better or much, much worse.

"Son of a bitch," he says upon seeing the scene in front of him. "That's MY deer!"

It's only now that I notice the arrows buried in the flesh of the deer's side. Daryl must have tracked it, and he doesn't look all that happy that this walker decided to make it his next meal.

"Look at it, all gnawed on by this…" He starts to kick the walker in between words. "Filthy, disease-bearing, motherless, proxy, bastard!"

Dale tries to speak up. "Calm down, son that's not helping." Daryl doesn't really seem in the mood to listen as he gets in Dale's face.

"What do you know 'bout it, old man? You take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'." I have a terrible feeling that I'm missing a great reference here.

Even though Daryl is rude and unsavory, I can't fault him for it because unlike Merle or Ed, he's not a bad person, not really. He just seems like it sometimes, but I can tell that he's not. If you judged me for how my temper, I'd probably seem like a terrible person. I really think Daryl's actually a great asset to our group. He's the best hunter and he knows the woods like the back of his hand. Daryl sighs, taking his arrows out of the deer.

"Been trackin' this deer for miles. Was gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison." I can feel my stomach growl at the thought. Damn, that actually sounds really appetizing now. I just thought of another reason to hate walkers.

"What do ya think we can cut 'round this chewed up part right here?" I want to shout 'YES!', but I'm not stupid.

"No, man, I would not risk that," Shane tells him sadly. Daryl sighs.

"That's a damn shame. But I got us some squirrel, 'bout a dozen or so. That'll have ta do." Squirrel is more than fine, and I'm in no position to complain, but I haven't had a meal as good as venison in such a long time, my mouth waters at the thought. Too bad I'll probably never be able to eat it again. Daryl has never brought a deer back before. This would have been the first. Oh, well. There's no use dwelling on things you can't change.

He starts to walk back to the RV, calling for Merle. I let out a deep breath. Things are about to get bad; fast. We all walk after him, watching as he calls for his brother who he thinks is in the RV, not handcuffed to a roof in geek-infested Atlanta.

"Merle! Get yo' ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up!" Shane decides to take initiative and approaches Daryl. The rest of us are too scared of that hunting knife around his waist to approach him.

"Hey, Daryl. Slow up a bit, I need to talk to you."

Daryl reluctantly, and impatiently, waits up.

"'Bout what?" he asks. Shane walks past him, pacing slightly.

"About Merle. There was a, uh… There was a problem in Atlanta." The rest of us look on, staring at Daryl to try and catch his reaction. I keep on hand on my knife, though it is no match for Daryl's. Surprisingly, he's calm so far. Well, as calm as he usually is.

"He dead?" Daryl asks plainly. I blink, surprised that he's not sounding a little more concerned. But, well, this is Daryl Dixon we're talking about here.

"Not sure," Shane answers.

"He either is or he ain't!" Daryl exclaims, getting impatient and aggravated. Now this is more like what I was expecting.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it," Dad cuts in, stepping forward.

I eye Daryl's huge knife hanging from his belt. If Dad says one thing to anger Daryl, I have a feeling that knife will be stuck in between someone's shoulder blades by the end of this conversation. Let's just hope it's not Dad. Instinctively, I grip my knife a little tighter in preparation to defend him.

"Who're you?" Daryl demands to know.

"Rick Grimes," Dad answers.

Daryl just scoffs. "_Rick_ _Grimes_," he mocks angrily. "You got somethin' you wanna tell me?" For someone who's facing a very angry, very tough looking man, Dad's pretty calm. His years in the police force are paying off right about now.

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him to a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there." His tone is matter-of-fact and unapologetic. I can already tell that Dad's going to end up being our leader soon enough. We need someone like him. Daryl looks away from Dad.

"Hold on," he mumbles. "Let me process this. You sayin' you handcuffed my brother to a _roof_?! And you LEFT HIM THERE?!"

Daryl's furious, more than we've ever seen him before, but Dad just looks down at the ground and nods.

"Yeah." He makes it sound so… so _simple_. Daryl's frown is deeply set in his face as he paces around in a circle, staring at Dad with more hatred in his eyes than I've ever seen directed at a human being before. In a flash, Daryl tosses his squirrels towards us and lunges at Dad, but Shane grabs him and wrestles him to the ground before he can attack him.

When Shane gets off him, Daryl pulls out his long, sharp hunting knife. Dread sets in my stomach. I feel Glenn holding me back from lunging at them with my own knife. I just got Dad back, and I am not losing him to a Dixon brother.

Daryl stands up slowly, swinging his knife at Dad, who catches his wrist and twists it while Shane gets him under control again, putting him in a chokehold.

"You best let me go!" Daryl shouts.

"Naw, I think it's better if I don't," Shane replies nonchalantly. He's bringing Daryl to the ground, still with his arms wrapped around Daryl's neck and head.

"Choke holding's illegal!" Daryl exclaims. Both Shane and I scoff at the same time.

"Yeah, you can file a complaint then," Shane says sarcastically. Dad crouches down to Daryl's level.

"C'mon, man, we can keep this up all day," Shane tells him. By this time, Daryl's simmering down some, but not much. Now he's just frustrated and upset. It's then I realize that Merle's all Daryl has left. Suddenly, shame fills me for acting so disgusted when Dad suggested he go rescue him. If I was in Daryl's position, I would want someone to do the same for me.

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Think we can manage that?" Daryl makes no response but heavy breathing. "Think we can manage that?" Dad repeats more forcefully. Daryl's lack of harsh comments answers Dad's question. Shane releases him onto the ground.

"What I did was not on a whim," Dad insists. "Your brother does not work and play well with others." Wow, he took the words right out of my mouth.

"It's not Rick's fault," T-Dog speaks up. I sigh. Oh, great.

I know T-Dog's trying to do the right thing, but T-Dog telling Daryl that he was the reason Merle's still in Atlanta is like he's asking to be stabbed. Does T-Dog have a death wish?

"I had the key. I dropped it." Daryl looks at him incredulously.

"Couldn't pick it up?!" T-Dog remains calm.

"Well, I dropped it in a drain."

So, basically, Merle has no way out. They're gonna need a hacksaw or something.

"If that's supposed to make me feel better, it don't," Daryl grumbles bitterly.

"Maybe this will. I chained the door to the roofs so the geeks couldn't get at him; with a padlock." Dad steps forward cautiously.

"It's gotta count for something." Sure it does. It means Merle isn't dead yet.

However, Daryl is still unsatisfied.

"The hell with all y'all!" Daryl exclaims, pointing to everyone who's gathered around here.

I know he's a loner and always has been since day one, but for some reason, that comment hurts. No matter how ridiculous it may sound, I thought that maybe I could become his friend somehow. Maybe not even his friend, just a friendly acquaintance or maybe even just two people able to coexist without hating each other. It seems that just went down the drain.

"Just tell me where he is," he continues, "So's I can go get him." Now Daryl still has a mask of hostility, but it's just thinly veiled frustration and sadness.

"He'll show you," Mom suddenly says from the RV. "Isn't that right?" Her tone is calm and almost accusing. I don't like it at all. Dad's just a good person. She shouldn't blame him for feeling responsible. I would feel like that too if I left someone to die, no matter how much he deserved it. Dad nods at her boldly and then turns back to look at Daryl.

"I'm going back," he says simply. Without giving anyone another word, he just walks away to the tent. I'm left standing there, suddenly wondering if maybe this is my chance to go to the city. He'd let me come with them after seeing me kill that walker, right? I know that I can do this. I'm ready.

I've always been ready.

* * *

**A/N: Finding somewhere to end it after having already written it a while ago is tough! Anyways, please follow, favorite, review and all that good stuff I'm too lazy to write. Have a nice day (or night)!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Man, the last episode was... intense, to say the least. I've heard some people saying it's their favorite Walking Dead episode ever. Do I agree? Maybe. I love all Walking Dead episodes, but I have to agree, that one was awesome. Anyways, here's the next chapter!**

* * *

Dad starts walking back up to where we all are, and I can hear Shane talking behind him.

"Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon?" Daryl looks up from his crossbow and points at Shane accusingly.

"Hey, choose your words more carefully." I hate Merle, but even I wouldn't insult him in from of his brother. Like I've said before, Daryl is not someone I want to cross. I'm brave, but not stupid. Shane just nods, though.

"Oh, I did. Douchebag's what I meant." He shakes his head bitterly. "Merle Dixon; guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dyin' of thirst." Well, that is true, but can we really leave him to die of thirst himself?

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me. _I_ can't let a man die of thirst; _me_. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap. That's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being." Shane looks like he wants to say something more, but I put my body in between them quickly to prevent anymore words being exchanged.

"Think about it, Shane," I implore him. "If you killed someone unintentionally and had the chance to go back and fix it, wouldn't you? Well, Merle's not dead yet, so Dad still has that chance. How could someone live knowing they left a man to die in one of the worst ways possible?" I know that I couldn't live with that. It would tear me up inside. This world may have gone to shit, but I like to think that I don't have it in me to lower myself to unneeded murder just yet.

Who knows? Give me a few years and that may change.

"So you and Daryl? That's your big plan?" Mom asks. I'm practically jumping in my spot, waiting for an opportunity to ask Dad if I can tag along. I'm about to when Dad suddenly turn to Glenn, looking at him expectantly. Glenn gets his message and sighs in frustration.

"Oh, _c'mon_!" he exclaims, obviously less than enthused by the whole idea.

"You know the way," Dad insists. "You've been there before. In and out, no problem, you said so yourself. It's not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I'd feel a lot better with you along. I know she would to." He's referring to Mom, who I don't think will feel easy about this either way. Shane looks ready to say something, but when I glance at him, he keeps quiet.

"Don't forget about me," T-Dog sounds from the back. Daryl scoffs.

"My day just gets better and better, don't it?" If I were him, I'd feel a little more grateful that I have that many people along to help me. Then again, T-Dog did drop the key.

"I want to come, too," I blurt out. Suddenly, it seems every single eye in camp is on me. It makes me feel uneasy and a little bit nervous. I hear Daryl scoff again.

"So now we're bringing the lil' girl with anger issues?" I ignore his comment and stand tall in front of Dad, waiting for his response. Shane beats him to it.

"Now this is just getting ridiculous!" he exclaims. I whirl around in my spot to face Shane, a scowl imbedded deeply in my face.

Oh, so now me being of any help is _ridiculous_? I didn't know I was considered so invaluable, especially by someone who I thought believed in me.

"How so, Shane?" I hiss. He looks taken aback at my tone. I usually do not snap at Shane. Not since that time on the highway. Before right now, all of my arguments with her were superficial and soon forgotten, but not this one.

"I. Am not. Five. I would appreciate being treated like it every once in a while!" Dad's hand clamps down on my shoulder before I can go on berating Shane.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable with bringing you along either, Jamie." I turn around to look at Dad, dumbstruck at being turned down by him. I never thought that he of all people would doubt me or my skills. After all, he's part of the reason I know how to use weapons.

"You taught me how to shoot a gun. I know how to use a knife now. Dad, I'm ready for this!" He shakes his head.

"Jamie, I almost died in Atlanta. I don't wanna let you see what I did. I would never put you in that sort of danger. I love you too much."

The notorious Jamie Grimes anger simmering in me is counter-acted by hearing my dad say that he's not letting me go because of how much he loves me. I've missed him telling me that since he's been gone. I feel torn between letting him have it for treating me like a child and latching onto him like he'll disappear if I dare let go. Finally, I give my fried brain a break and settle for a happy medium; nothing at all.

"Fine," I grumble, stalking off to the general area of the tents before I let my anger take a hold of me and say something totally stupid that I'll regret later. I'm not called back to the area, which I'm thankful for. It seems no one here really understands the concept of a little thing called 'privacy'.

I march over to our family tent and grab a bleach-stained, light colored plaid shirt along with gray jeans and black boots. Quickly changing out of my sweaty old clothes for my new ones, I grab all the dirty laundry I can possibly find in our tent and gather them all into a ball, aggressively throwing them into a basket while gritting my teeth. I may not be able to go on a run, but I'll be damned if anyone stops me from doing laundry. I want something to be in control of for once. I want something that I can do without being told 'no'. Looking around, I gather some clothes that others have put into baskets outside their tents and throw them all into my larger basket.

"Hey, girls!" I yell as I walk up to the RV. Dad, Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog are already gone. Andrea, Amy, Carol, Jacqui, and Mom all turn around.

"Yep?" Amy asks. I hold up my bounty of dirty clothing like a trophy.

"Anyone want to get off their lazy ass and help me do the laundry?" I ask. I can practically feel Mom's disapproving stare from my cursing burn a hole in my head. They all look around at each other, and when nobody objects, they start to join me.

"Look after Carl," I tell Mom. She nods and sits back down next to him. I can tell he's upset, and I can't watch him right now, so I leave that up to Mom. It's weird having to tell Mom to look after her own kid, but I guess it's because I take that upon my self often.

We all drag ourselves down to the lake with our primitive cleaning supplies, hike up our pants, and sit on rocks as we dip the clothing into the water and start to scrub away. Before the world went to shit, we had quite a lovely washing machine in our house, but I always hated laundry. I would do it, of course, but I'd grumble about it the whole time. Now, I wondering why the hell I put up such a fuss over a modern machine when I now have to do it old fashioned style, which takes a lot more time and is a lot harder.

We all idly chat amongst ourselves. Like always, the talk is about things we miss about our old lives. It helps us hold on to some part of our past. Meanwhile, across the pond, Shane and Carl are splashing in the water, trying to catch frogs. Something in me aches when I see I'm not a part of the fun, but then I tell myself that what I'm doing is actually useful and I go back to scrubbing furiously.

"I'm beginning to question the division of labor here," Jacqui says as she and Andrea bring another load of laundry to our spot. I shrug it off. It's nice seeing Carl being a kid instead of acting older than he actually is. He's been doing too much of that lately.

"The world ended, didn't you get the memo?" I snap back into reality when I hear Amy say that. So, conversation has resumed.

"It's just the way it is," Carol says wistfully. Sometimes, I wonder why it's that way. What started this virus? How did it spread? No one ever seems able to answer me. Conversation stops again momentarily as we scrub on the clothing and dip them into tubs of water.

"I do miss my Maytag," Carol says sadly. I start to let my mind wander and think intently about my laptop, my phone, and my diary that I kept hidden underneath my mattress. I wonder if it's still there…

"I miss my coffee maker with that gold drip filter and built in grinder, honey," Jacqui says, once again taking me away from my thoughts. She says it a bit jokingly, but also with a hint of sadness. These things are gone forever. Of course we're sad about it.

"My computer…" Amy says longingly. "Texting…" I sigh once again.

"I miss being able to write," I admit. Never have I ever told anyone about my addiction to writing, but it seems all so pointless now.

Andrea puts down her scrubber and admits bluntly, "I miss my vibrator." Jacqui makes some sound to indicate how scandalous she's being, and I laugh, despite not knowing a thing about what she and every other adult female are missing. Of course, I'm not overly innocent; I know what a vibrator is. I've just never used it or any other… um… _thing_. Andrea laughs at Jacqui, and I let another little laugh escape at how ridiculous it all is.

However, when Carol says, "Me too," after glancing over at Ed, we lose it. All of us are laughing and patting Carol on the shoulder. It serves her bastard husband right.

Right on cue, the troll himself appears behind us, squinting his eyes at us.

"What's so funny?" he asks, trying to be intimidating. I roll my eyes. He does not scare me. He tries to be intimidating, but he fails miserably at scaring anyone except his own family.

"Just swappin' war stories, Ed," Andrea lies easily, still with some laughter in her voice. However, Ed doesn't leave. I can feel him leering over me, checking what I'm doing. I have the strongest urge to turn around and sock him in the face, but I continue on with my chores and tell myself to manage my anger. Andrea, however, looks back at him in frustration.

"Problem, Ed?" she asks.

"None that concerns you," he answers coldly. Andrea merely goes back to her work with a smirk on her face.

"You outta focus on your work," he says. "This ain't no comedy club." He's one to talk, considering sitting on his butt is pretty much all he does. He doesn't understand the meaning of work. For a member of the group, he sure doesn't act like it. He should clean his own damn clothes. Finally, after having Ed staring us down for the better half of a few minutes, Andrea stands up.

"I'll tell you what. You don't like how your laundry is done? You are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here." She tosses him his shirt, which he chucks back at her face. I feel myself stand up and my fists clenching as the rage slowly builds.

"Ain't my job, missy," he says.

"Andrea, don't," Amy begs. Andrea, however, doesn't pay attention.

"What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass and smoking cigarettes?"

He blows the smoke in her face, and I inch closer to the two of them, feeling my anger start to rise.

"It sure ain't sittin' listenin' to some uppity smart-mouth bitch, tell you what." He signals over to Carol, telling her to come with him. When I see her defeated face, something inside me snaps. That's the final straw for me.

"No, she's not going anywhere with you!" I shout, getting in front of Andrea. He leers down at me, looking me up and down like I'm prey.

"I've been waiting to put you in your place since the day I met you, little girl. Don't think I won't start today." I stare up at him, looking him straight in the eyes. Looking away from him would be a sign of defeat, and I refuse to give in to him. I want him to know that his methods don't work on me. I won't give him the control.

"What're you gonna do? Hit me? There's a word for men who hit women like you do, and it's _coward_. I hope the walkers eat you alive piece by piece. You deserve more than anyone," I spit out venomously. The scary thing is, I mean exactly what I say. He's the one person who I wouldn't care if walkers got to him. I just don't.

His face turns red with fury, his eyes blazing with fire, and he quickly raises his hand. Before I can react properly, he's already struck me across the face, _hard_. I fall to the ground from the force and feel my skin burn from the hit more than it has ever burned before. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes as it starts to turn into a throb, but I refuse to let them fall. As I try to stand back up, I hear a ruckus above me. So, I stay on the ground and simply look up.

To my surprise, Shane has Ed in his grip and is dragging him over next to the car. We all watch as Shane throws Ed to the ground and begins punching him repeatedly in the face. I touch my own face, feeling the pain, before looking back at this horrible train wreck of events.

My mouth hangs open in shock as Shane delivers hard punches one by one to Ed's face. I can hear him gargling in pain and the sounds of Carol crying out next to me. Slowly, I drag myself nearer to Shane and Ed to get a closer look. I'm still too shocked to say anything, so I just look on as Shane hits the man who hit me. I keep reliving Ed's fury and his smack as I watch Shane do the same to him. Finally, he stops and grabs Ed's collar.

"You lay a hand on Jamie, your wife, your little girl, or anyone else in this camp and I will not stop next time. You hear me? Do you hear me?!" Ed just makes another gargling sound as he tries to sit up some. "I'll beat you to death, Ed," Shane warns before throwing his fist and Ed one last time. He then drops him and starts to walk over to us.

When I realize he's going in my direction, I panic, still trying to protect myself. From what, I don't know. I'm not in control of my legs and they start to move frantically. My body screams to stay away from him and any other man who comes near me. On pure instinct, I start to scoot away from him, scrambling until my back touches the rock behind me. I can see hurt flash through his features momentarily, and I feel awful for pulling away, but he just leans down and hooks his hands underneath my arms. I tense like someone touched my bruising face.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he says softly enough for just me to hear before making me walk with him. I can still hear Carol crying about how sorry she is to Ed, and I can't bear the listen to her apologize to the man who beat her. It's just not right. My own physical pain is insignificant to me compared to all of the anger I still feel towards Ed.

Still, I don't know why Shane's touch on my arm feels like a burn that I can't decide between struggling to shake off or letting stay.

* * *

**A/N: I just have to say, I know Jamie curses a lot, but I actually don't. I know, I'm a bit of a sissy. I don't curse, I don't drink, I don't do drugs, I don't have sex and get pregnant, I don't even date; writing and theatre are my thing. Definitely not your average teenager!**

**Please feel free to favorite, follow, and review and all that stuff. By the way, the last line was NOT meant to be romantic! It was meant to show some doubts Jamie has about Shane now that she's seen his violent side. You'll be seeing more of that next chapter. :)**


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